


Smitten

by mforpaul



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternative Universe - Sonny is an actor, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Grand Romantic Gestures, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Twitter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2019-10-11 07:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 69,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17442977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mforpaul/pseuds/mforpaul
Summary: Sonny is an actor AUADA Rafael Barba meets actor Sonny Carisi when he is a substantial witness in a rape case. Their collaboration on the case goes viral under #Barisi. Carisi thinks of grand romantic gestures to convince Barba.





	1. In medias res

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soul_writerr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soul_writerr/gifts).



> Big shout out to barbaesparza and nevadatrash for betareading, thank you!
> 
> A lot of credit goes to soul_writerr not just because the AU was her idea in general, but also she attributed a lot of ideas to the story and discussed many details with me, so thank you!
> 
> And someone had to write this AU because Sonny's undercover work is art!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first meeting

Barba stands up and closes the buttons of his suit jacket while his eyes trail over the paperwork that Carmen had laid out for him.

Witness preparation.

Carmen had explained to him how difficult it had been to get an appointment with this particular witness, because apparently he’s a very busy man. Barba wouldn’t give a damn if this person’s personal business hadn’t led to the fact that he is now waiting for him after work hours.

As the trial is not set to start until a couple of weeks later, this is actually the first time Barba looks through the files thoroughly.

This is the first time the name of the witness catches his attention.

_Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr._

Barba knows this name. Sonny Carisi is an actor. He had seen him once on television when he had been zapping through the channels after a very hard week of work. His to the bone tiredness had led him to conclude that the dullness of television would be just the right treatment for his overworked brain. So he had settled on a legal drama. Just for the fun of it. Needless to mention that the series had shamefully simplified legal proceedings, but there had been a surprisingly clever plot twist towards the end of the episode.

One way or the other, it had been a certain blond actor that had caught Barba’s attention the most. His talent had been conspicuous. Barba has been going to the theatre for all his life, so he recognizes a good actor when he sees one. Unlike most of his co-stars, Sonny Carisi had effortlessly played small, played big and added tiny details to his character. At just the right moments, he had twitched the corner of his gorgeous mouth or naturally stroked a strain of dirty blond hair out of a handsome forehead with the tip of his finger…

Barba had googled Sonny Carisi afterwards. He had googled the show so to learn about Carisi’s name. And then he had googled Sonny Carisi. This is why he knows about his ex-girlfriends, that his real name is Dominick and that he had considered becoming the lawyer he is now playing on the series.

Barba rolls his eyes hard even though nobody is there to see it.

He is expecting the worst. If this sweet faced boy is going to think that he knows the law better than Barba does, he is going to have something to say about it.

Barba doesn’t like stereotyping but in his experience, people who make money because of their looks have a tendency to be high-flown. And after all, it’s television Sonny Carisi works in, so of course his work is more about his attractiveness than his talent.

Barba pauses. How come no one had told him that their witness is a famous actor? He guesses that Liv doesn’t bother and Fin and Amaro don’t care. And Rollins has no taste.

The victim of the rape he will prosecute is an actress and the rape had happened during the shooting of the series, but Barba hadn’t known that his witness is actually the star of the show.

But Carmen is smart. Why didn’t she tell him? Suddenly, Barba remembers how Carmen had winked at him when she had apologized to have been setting up the prep date so late in the evening.

Carmen is smart indeed.

And if not even Carmen had managed to get this guy’s ass down to the DA’s office during work hours, then Carisi must be really conceited. Who does he think he is? He really seems to think that his schedule is more important than Barba’s.

As much as he hates it, he needs to talk to Carmen. That cannot happen again. Sonny Carisi is a substantial witness in a rape case. It’s important to prepare his testimony meticulously so that they can put the rapist behind bars. This is why when Barba whistles this man is supposed to come running to his feed like a golden retriever.

Barba sighs. This is a disaster already. _But look at the bright side they say_ , Barba thinks bitterly. Despite the unfortunate circumstance that his witness is a probably stuck-up actor from a legal drama of all genres, Barba would at least get the chance to be stuck in his office with some eye candy.

In the episode he had watched, Sonny Carisi had worn a polka dotted shirt. Barba remembers the shirt, because that had been the moment he had decided to not change the channel. The navy blue color had highlighted Carisi’s lean figure and mostly his stunningly blue eyes.

Undoubtedly the man is handsome, but even more than that Barba had found him beautiful.

But Barba guesses that make-up and post-production can make anyone look good. _So let’s see about the reality_ , Barba thinks.

As it turns out, in reality Sonny Carisi looks _amazing_.

When Sonny Carisi cautiously knocks on the anyway open door of his office with one hand in his pocket and a gorgeous smile on his face, Barba needs a moment to catch his breath.

In reality, his eyes are even bluer. His pale skin is adorned with flushed cheeks. His golden hair rutted with silver lines is loosely combed back out of his face in an easy wave so not to distract from his soft facial features. Barba notes stubbles on Carisi’s cheeks that indicate that the man probably hadn’t shaved for a day.

Sonny Carisi is wearing a grey suit with a light blue tartan pattern, his shirt is white with soft green stripes and he’s wearing a navy blue polka dotted tie. The soft yet stunning patterns in shades of blue do everything to make this unbelievably good looking man look even better.

But of course, Barba doesn’t do more than blink.

Carisi reaches out his hand when he introduces himself. “Dominick Carisi Jr., but please call me Sonny.”

“Mr. Carisi it is”, Barba replies and walks towards him. “ADA Rafael Barba.”

Their hands touch and Barba cannot help but notice how especially warm Carisi’s hand feels.

If Barba would be between ten and twenty years younger, he would throw himself at that man.

“I’m very sorry that I keep you busy this late”, Carisi starts apologizing and Barba shockingly notices that the man has an accent. “I’m embarrassed really, but my schedule's like mad.” Carisi stresses the last word by lifting one hand in the air and exaggeratingly waving it.

The accent does not fit to Carisi’s elegant appearance at all. Barba doesn’t recognize the accent and is slightly confused because he thinks to remember that Carisi is a New Yorker. The accent sounds like Carisi had been chewing words in his mouth all day, only to coarsely roll them off his tongue.

The accent sounds rough. It’s _dirty_.

“Well, Mr. Carisi, I’m trying to get a serial rapist convicted. So don’t worry, I don’t have more important things to do”, Barba says with pointed calmness. After he sends Carisi a tense smile, he turns around to walk towards his table.

Carisi’s eyelashes flutter. “It’s not what I mean…” he starts, but stops short.

Barba is now standing behind his desk, knowing very well that his own self is nicely framed behind the heavy wooden desk and in front of overloaded bookshelves. The shining name tag indicates his name and his title. And of course, Barba is as always well-dressed, so he knows that he is making an impression.

“I would appreciate if you would take this seriously, Mr. Carisi”, Barba snaps.

“I am…” Carisi is quick to reply, but Barba cuts him off with a sharp hand gesture.

“We owe it to the victim”, _and to the criminal justice system_ , but Barba stops himself from saying this worn out line, because he is almost sure that he had only ever heard it on television. Instead he gestures to the chair in front of his desk.

“Have a seat please”, Barba concludes and points his flat hand to the chairs in front of his desk.

Carisi nods dutifully. He rounds one of the chairs and sits down. Barba is almost surprised by not getting a retort, but he needs to remind himself that Carisi is not a lawyer, but in fact a man who gets words written into his mouth.

“So…” Barba opens the case file. “Mr. Carisi, my detectives informed me that you didn’t know the victim before you witnessed the incident.”

“Technically, I didn’t witness the incident”, Carisi answers truthfully and Barba presses his lips together. He has a slight feeling that this is a lame attempt to talk legal. “But no, I didn’t”, Carisi goes on. “I mean not like _know_ know her. She played a minor role in that episode but I was not in the whole scene. We had made some small talk, but nothin’ more.”

 _So eloquence is not his strong suit_ , Barba thinks unsurprised. But what Barba does not understand at all is the way Carisi’s hand talks along with his mouth.

“How long did it take to shoot the scene that you were both in?” Barba asks nonchalantly.

“Uhm… man, it took so long. I mean, it was jus’ a short scene, but it was set in a supermarket. The production could only rent it over nights, so we only had a few hours every night for shooting. And I guess it took like five nights or somethin’.”

Barba raises his brows. He _guesses_ , it took _like_ five nights _or_ _something_. If he doesn’t prepare him well, Rita will make him cry on the witness stand.

“So, you worked with her for nearly a week and you have only exchanged a few words with her?”

Carisi looks taken aback. “We were working, it’s not like we had time for chit-chat.”

“And you didn’t have any breaks where you could have get to know her better?” Barba leans back and folds his hands.

Carisi draws his brows together which inexplicably makes his strikingly blue eyes shine even more. “Counselor, I’m tryin’ to help ya.”

 _Staten Island_ , Barba thinks.

“Then you’d better find a good answer to those questions, because the defense will try to make you look bad for sure”, Barba replies unimpressed.

Barba knows that it’s a dick move to make Carisi feel like he’s accused of something when he is actually a witness for the prosecution. Especially considering that he had entered his office only two or three minutes ago, Barba shouldn’t be so hard on Carisi. So if Carisi is pissed, Barba wouldn’t blame him.

To his surprise, Carisi expression remains kind. “I see”, he says. _Yes_ , Barba thinks, _you’d better see, because that’s how the law works_. _It’s ugly not as polished as your show_. But Barba decides to not say so out loud. It would benefit him more if his witnesses would actually like him.

“Well, let me see”, Carisi ruminates. Barba had expected that he would need to find the answers for him; it doesn’t happen very often that witnesses think along. “But as I said, Mr. Barba. The location was only available in the early morning hours when the supermarket was closed. We were under time pressure, so no breaks and a lotta work. And we weren’t really interacting with each other in the scene. So I only talked to her the first day when we were introduced. I remember that she told me that besides acting she also gives piano lessons.” Carisi shrugs his shoulders. “That’s it.”

Carisi looks Barba in the eyes expectantly, his expression genuinely sincere.

 _Not bad_ , Barba thinks. The defense wouldn’t be able to twist that statement into something that it isn’t.

“And you have never met her before? You two were not involved somehow?” Barba wants to know.

Carisi furrows his brows in confusion and Barba finds this a rather cute look on him. “I already testified to your detectives that I was not seeing anyone from the team, including her.”

“I know you were not in a relationship with her, but maybe you had… something else going on?” Barba keeps pushing.

Carisi leans in, his cheeks flushed. Barba is sure that the confusion in Carisi’s face is not caused by shame, but rather by anger. “Why would you say that, Mr. Barba?”

“Well, if you’d have been involved with her, even briefly, it could decrease your credibility as a witness”, Barba answers.

“Why would you think I’d’ve been involved with her?” Carisi ripostes. “She was a random actress, I have never met her before.”

Barba shrugs his shoulders. “I'm not familiar with the gossip, but in case your press coverage entertains stories of your love life that could also make the jury think that…”

“I’m not loose, counselor”, Carisi interrupts him sharply and the firm note in his voice makes Barba shiver. “And I don’t appreciate the attitude.”

_Attitude?_

Barba should feel more offended, but instead Carisi’s retort had inflamed a fire somewhere in his chest.

“I didn’t mean to imply something, Mr. Carisi”, Barba says, sweet as pie. “I just mean that your celebrity status doesn’t help you in court. Your reputation will be right there with you on that witness stand. We need to think of that.”

Carisi’s gaze is fixed on him intensely. Barba can see the fury glistening in his eyes. And Barba cannot deny that he finds the sparkle hot as hell. Despite his obvious discomfort, the actor decides to stay calm. Carisi takes a deep breath and nods again.

“The media sometimes sees things that are not there”, he states diplomatically.

Barba smirks. _Spoken like a true lawyer_.

“So about the things they see: What reputation do they give you?”, he asks coolly.

Carisi huffs. “I’m trying to keep my private life private, but, y’know, everywhere there’s an idiot with a cell phone these days.” Carisi closes his eyes for a second. “But I don’t think that I have a bad reputation.”

“And is this reputation accurate?”, Barba wants to know.

“What do you mean?”, Carisi asks shifting in his chair.

“What I mean is whether or not your reputation is accurate to your actual behavior?” Barba explains calmly. His clever green eyes study Carisi’s reaction.

“Excuse me?”

“The defense will dig up all the dirt”, Barba explains matter of factly. “I want to be prepared, Mr. Carisi. I want to be in control about what impression you're going to make to the jury.”

“As I said, counselor, I’m not loose”, Carisi grits between his teeth. “So don’t worry, there's no dirt that can be dug up.”

“Are you sure? Because I should warn you. Even if you stretch the truth, it could mean that you commit perjury”, Barba replies.

All of the sudden, the expression in Carisi shifts. Instead of fury the sparkle in Carisi’s eyes now tells a story of delight, instead of being offended the flush on Carisi’s cheeks is now indicating excitement. Carisi slouches to the corner of the chair and leans one elbow on Barba’s desk.

“We had an episode that was all about whether or not someone perjured…”

“Yes, that’s very interesting”, Barba interrupts him directly. “But please forgive me if I cannot share any sentiments about legal drama law.” His voice drips with sarcasm. “So can I count on that no womanizing stories will come up from somewhere?”

But Carisi doesn’t let himself be swayed: “I just wanted to tell you that the solution about the perjury in the end was that…”

“I don’t care”, Barba interjects. “Please leave the law to real lawyers. I don’t need your insights, all I need is your full and sincere cooperation.”

Carisi bites his lips and something inflame in his eyes. _Challenge_ , Barba thinks. _And he likes it_. Barba wets his lips in order to bite back a smirk.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I find the law so fascinating." Carisi smiles prettily. “It’s an amazing opportunity to bounce off thoughts with a… shrewd lawyer like you are that I just don’t want to let go to waste. I guess I like to take every opportunity to learn.”

 _Uh-oh_. Carisi is scratching Barba’s ego in all the right places.

There is no need to deny that Barba relishes praise. Even from a TV lawyer and especially from a handsome man like this one.

But of course, Barba only blinks.

“I appreciate that”, he answers politely. “But I’m not a teacher. I’m here to get a serial rapist jailed.”

Carisi nods. He puts a hand on his chest. “My mistake, counselor. That’s what I want, too. So tell me what I can do for you.”

 _Any scenario with your tongue in my throat would be fine_ , but Barba pushes away that thought as fast as it came into his mind. It’s dangerous enough that this man opposite him seems to know about his charm.

“So tell me, do you have a history of getting involved with women at work? Even just flirting?”, Barba asks.

“No, I like to keep it professional”, Carisi answers.

Barba only raises a brow inquiringly. He genuinely doesn’t know, it’s just a hunch. But he seems to hit the right nerve.

Because Carisi caves. “It happened once”, he admits. “I was dating one of my colleagues for a while. It was a disaster.” Carisi straightens his back. “I guess, she was more into the publicity.” Barba could see the hurt in his eyes. “This is why I like to keep my love life off the set. If you know what I mean, counselor.”

“Publicity. That would be another thing the defense could accuse you of”, Barba throws in.

“I neither want nor need that”, Carisi answers quickly and affirmatively. And Barba believes him.

This time, the smirk finds Barba’s lips and even puts a sparkle in his eyes.

“Good”, Barba says simply.

_Praise._

And when Carisi smiles back warmly, Barba clears his throat and quickly looks at the file in front of him. _Credible_ , he reads. It’s a note scribbled in the right corner on top of the protocol of Carisi’s first interrogation right after the assault. From the hurried lines that make the word barely readable, Barba guesses this comment comes from Sergeant Tutuola who is serving as lead detective on this case. Not that it mattered, Barba would trust all of his detectives’ opinions no matter what.

“Okay, that means the victim was not under the false impression that you made advances towards her”, Barba concludes and Carisi shakes his head in confirmation. “Since you were the one who found her right after the assault, I don’t want the defense to make up some kind of perverted love triangle story where she was confused about what had happened because you were messing with her.”

Actually, that is the reason why Barba had started this whole line of questioning in the first place. Liv had suspected in the beginning of the investigation that the victim might be holding back information because she was seeing someone on the set. The SVU detectives hadn’t been sure in which way the victim or the eye witnesses had been entangled in the liaisons that were going on the set. But eventually, they had cleared that neither the victim nor the witness were involved in any of this.

“I think we’re safe”, Carisi answers confidently.

“Good”, Barba comments and when he observes Carisi loosening his tie, he decides to finally give the man some slack. “I know that these questions are very invasive. I understand they must make you feel uncomfortable, but unfortunately it's more than likely that the defense will go down that road. So it’s better we practise these lines of questioning during these prep sessions.”

Carisi finds a soft smile. “It’s all right, counselor. I also want this son of a bitch behind bars, so I’m all yours.”

Barba touches his lips with the tip of his tongue, but he only blinks in response.

They go on for about an hour more. Barba lets Carisi tell him about all the gossip on the set and about who slept with whom. Barba could have just taken these information out of the files, especially since Carisi neither seems to know nor has much of an opinion about any of it, but Barba enjoys listening to that deep voice with that terrible accent. And he likes the long fingers that seem to do as much of the talking as his mouth.

Barba could say that it was due to Carisi’s constant comments about how the cases in his show reminded him of this and that, but honestly Barba is going deliberately slow and thereby making this prep session longer than necessary. But it’s also not like he has anything better to do when he goes home.

“Counselor, if you want to have a drink of that whiskey over there I won’t tell anyone”, Carisi says with a wink, pointing across the room to a beautiful decanter filled with an amber liquid. Barba’s brow raises along with Carisi’s corner of his mouth.

Barba is not used to someone showing sympathy for him. He is just doing his job after all. But he decides to take it all the same.

He gets up and moves to fix himself a drink. “Do you want one, too?”, he asks out of politeness.

“No, thanks.” Carisi taps on his chest. “I wouldn’t want you to hold that one against me.”

When Barba turns around to him, he is met with a mischievous grin. And Barba has no chance, but to return it. And just like that, before Barba even takes a sip of liquor, warmth spreads through his body.

Barba puts his lips to the Scotch glass and welcomes the burn that the golden liquid brings along. He closes his eyes, because he suddenly feels tired.

Embarrassed, Barba’s eyes shoot open. Carisi must have observed his little moment of weakness.

“Mr. Barba, I can come back again next week”, Carisi offers friendlily. “I mean I don’t want to keep you away from… anyone waiting for you at home?” Carisi’s eyelashes flutter.

“It’s late, but we still have a lot of work to do”, Barba responds and starts to feel like he is missing something when he sees disappointment briefly flash up in Carisi’s face.

“Mr. Barba, I’m very sorry that it’s so late." Carisi says and gets up, obviously dismissing himself which slightly pisses Barba off because he thinks that he is the one to decide when their meeting ends. “But you must excuse my schedule.” _Must he?_ “We’re about to shoot the finale which is gonna be a two episode arc”, Carisi stops short. “I’m not supposed to say that but I guess I can count on you to treat this as confidential information.” Carisi smiles and Barba presses his lips together, he’s too tired to be annoyed by Carisi’s sloppy attempt to talk legal. “Anyway, this is the reason why I’m so busy, so…”

“Yes, yes, I know you do very important work”, Barba utters.

 _He should stick to his good looks,_ Barba thinks.

Carisi only huffs and obviously goes for not pushing the topic. “Anyway, Mr. Barba, I would like to apologize again.” He wipes a loosened strain of his hair out of his forehead, before he stretches out his hand for Barba.

Maybe Barba stares a moment to long, before he takes Carisi’s hand and shakes it, but the other man doesn’t seem to notice. Or mind. And Barba’s heart skips a beat when he feels Carisi’s other hand covering the back of his hand, too.

“It’s was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barba.”

Barba only finds his voice again when Carisi lets go of his hand.

“Call my assistant to get a new appointment”, Barba tells him in what he hopes is a voice full of authority.

Carisi, already at the door, turns around, on his lips a gorgeous smile. He nods.

“My assistant will call your assistant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> This is my inspiration for what Sonny looks like during their first meeting.


	2. Tiredness & Apprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first moment

When Barba arrives home it’s ten thirty.

The apartment smells a little musty because he hadn’t bothered to let fresh air inside for days. And he also won’t tonight.

Barba’s first concern is another Scotch.

After that he takes a quick shower and goes straight to bed.

But he doesn’t sleep. He places his head comfortably on one of his beloved fat pillows and takes his phone into his hands.

Not to be blinded by his phone he adjusts the display brightness until he feels his tired eyes relax. With a sigh, he reaches to the bedside table where he finds his reading glasses. His little secret that he had been able to keep even from his mother.

Then he googles Sonny Carisi.

No one can blame him for what he does in the privacy of his own bedroom.

He opens Carisi’s Wikipedia page to confirm some basic information he already knows. Carisi is a Catholic through and through, he is indeed from Staten Island. Not without a sigh, Barba notes that Carisi is thirty three which puts a decade between them.

Wikipedia also reveals some light information he has no particular interest in, but is still nice to know: Carisi has three sisters. He had applied and been accepted for law school, but had decided against it in favor of his acting career and he is a fan of the New York Rangers.

Furthermore, Carisi seems to donate a fair amount of his money to various charities, Staten Island Children’s Museum, Joyful Heart Foundation, New York School for the Deaf, No Kid Hungry Today, Children’s Hospital at Montefiore... The endlessly long list convinces Barba that charity must be genuinely important for Carisi. _Admirable admittedly_.

Barba scratches his forehead. There they have something in common: He actually donates to this children’s hospital every month, not out of the goodness of his heart or Catholic guilt but because he had visited it frequently during his teens.

On Wikipedia he also finds some facts that he had been wanting to find out: Carisi had studied at Tisch School of the Arts, he had modelled from age seventeen until his early twenties and played in a few productions on Off-Broadway stages.

Rafael could be ashamed of himself for what he is about to do next, but he even admits to himself that he likes gossip. And an important part of gossip is to be informed.

For the information Barba really wants to know, he needs to dig into a few gossip pages where he eventually finds what he is searching for. Apparently, Carisi used to have a long term relationship with his high school sweetheart until he finished university and started his acting career. Afterwards, he had a one year relationship with a musician with whom he had split up amicably when she had started touring. And then there was the formerly mentioned colleague. Seemingly, Carisi had a short lived romance with an actress of some daytime drama in which Carisi had played the love interest of said actress for a few episodes.

Barba finds it a shame to all queer men in the history of mankind that Carisi is straight.

But even more than that, Barba is sure that Carisi could do better. Barba scrolls through the pictures Google is offering him, clicking on a few to study them more closely. He doesn’t find a picture of the high school girlfriend, but the musician and the actress are both lip glossed, curly haired fake blonde cuties with faces to forget in a second.

In the darkness of his bedroom, Barba shakes his head. _This man has no taste_.

Other than that, Barba finds nothing of greater interest. With the exception of the girlfriends, this is all information that anyone who would bother to put his name into Google would find out about himself as well.

 _So he really tries to keep his private life private_ , Barba thinks. _Good for him_.

Even though he cannot make himself feel overly sorry, Barba must admit that he had been unfair to Carisi. He doesn’t know why he had felt the urge to challenge the younger man. It really hadn’t been necessary to question him so harshly. Before taking even one look at him, Barba had assumed that Carisi would be nothing more than a pretty face.

 _Okay,_ Barba had been wrong about that.

But Carisi’s eagerness to share his legal knowledge that he had acquired from a legal drama – even lying in his bed with nothing more than the display of his phone lighting the room Barba has to roll his eyes at that – was simply annoying. As flattered as Barba feels by the younger man’s compliments, he is not a teacher. Sure, Carisi’s urge to “take every opportunity to learn” is very admirable and everything, but Barba has better things to do with his precious time.

Barba thinks back to Carisi’s smile. He cannot help but wondering if they hadn’t had a little moment there when Carisi turned down the offer for a drink.

But Barba quickly shakes his head to get this thought out of his mind.

 _I need to get laid more often_ , he thinks hopelessly.

Carisi promises to be a strong witness, though. There are seven women in the jury, Carisi will win them over in a heartbeat.

Barba smiles to himself when he thinks about the spark that Barba’s provocations had put into Carisi’s eyes. Carisi had liked to be challenged, to get _his_ approval.

Barba sighs. Yes, he had been mean to Carisi, but he won’t get anywhere with this man by playing nice. If he wants to get the best out of Carisi, he needs to push him.

Barba googles for pictures from the time when Carisi had been modelling. He doesn’t find very much, mostly pictures of him posing in winter jackets. Metallic colors giving the slightly younger version of Carisi a chiseled look. The highlight in every picture, of course, is his stunningly blue eyes.

No one would ever think that in real life this man talks with _this_ accent.

Barba also finds a picture of a role where Carisi must have been playing a parody of some eighties cop. Slick hair, disgusting colors with offending patterns and a mustache. Well, Barba likes the mustache…

This is when Barba turns off his phone and puts it on the bedside table. The reading glasses follow right away. He should feel ashamed of himself.

Looking at the dark ceiling above him, Barba thinks that he definitely should get laid more often. But more so often, work comes in his way. His state of mind constantly changes between the agitation he feels while working and the immense exhaustion afterwards. In between, Barba usually finds no nerve to get involved with anyone.

This is how he had become this grumpy, horny, old man who ogles at pictures of some blond cutesy.

But then again, Carisi is an actor. Barba is not just allowed, he is invited to watch, to stare.

Barba closes his eyes. So he would do. The next prep date should be fun.

And with that, Barba drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Exactly two weeks later, Barba is angry.

Again, his appointment for witness preparation with Sonny Carisi had been scheduled after working hours.

The week before, Carisi had failed to show up to two appointments they had scheduled. With “Mr. Carisi got held up on set” his assistant had canceled last minute both times.

Carmen had apologized over and over again as if Barba gives a damn. _“You work so much overtime anyway, I thought it won’t make a difference”_ is what Carmen wants to say, but she doesn’t. So Barba doesn’t really blame her.

He blames Carisi. Again, the man’s commitment to serve the public’s demand for dull entertainment must be so important that it’s justifiable to schedule the necessary preparation to convict a serial rapist three hours after his official work day had ended.

Barba leans against his chest of drawers and contemplates over whether or not he should go for the Scotch already. He takes a moment to close his eyes.

This day had been hell.

First, in a different case Rollins had flirted with a witness to get false information out of him which Buchanan had joyfully drawn out of the witness in open court. _This woman just can’t restrain herself._ Then, his office had run out of coffee ( _okay_ , maybe Barba is angry at Carmen about that) and last but not least, Benson had informed him that the other witness beside Carisi in this case indeed had been sleeping with the accused rapist. So in between the DA complaining about due paperwork and Buchanan pressing for a ridiculous plea deal, Barba had decided to give up on this witness and to fully rely on the testimony of Carisi.

Barba sighs. He constantly wonders why he describes the SVU detectives as good as they have again failed to give him more evidence to base this case on other than Carisi’s statement because the physical evidence is questionable at best. The physical evidence, while obvious under objective standards, is complicated as the victim had refused to do a rape kit right away. And Ms. Calhoun would surely be able to present those facts as dubious to the jury.

So Carisi needs to make a good impression.

 _God,_ Barba is tired.

When he hears a shy knock on his already open office door followed by a lumpy “I’m sorry, counselor”, Barba wants to jerk around and tell Carisi to put his dimpled smile together with his “sorry” somewhere up his ass. But as he does turn around and actually looks into said dimpled smile, Barba decides to accept it all the same.

He takes in a deep breath. It’s late. He had already worked for twelve hours save the five minutes for his lunch sandwich, the half an hour for his dinner Chinese noodles and the actual three minutes Liv and him had spent not talking about work during their coffee break.

It all doesn’t matter, because this is important.

“Mr. Carisi”, Barba foregoes a greeting. “I am so glad you were able to donate some of your precious time to pursue justice.”

Carisi looks as if Barba had slapped him in the face: “I’m really, really so, so sorry, Mr. Barba. But the production company didn’t let me. We’re shooting all week. It was raining, so we got delayed with the outside scenes…” Carisi stops himself when he sees Barba’s stern expression. “But you’re not interested in that.”

“No, I’m not”, Barba confirms mordantly. “And I hope that this all is not a joke to you.”

“No, of course not…”

“Because Miss Fox’s testimony is out”, Barba explains and starts walking towards him slowly. “That makes you the only witness in this case, Mr. Carisi.” At these words, Carisi straightens his back. “This man has raped at least five women, but we can only charge him for this one and your testimony is substantial for getting him jailed.” Barba now stands in front of him, a little too close maybe. “So I hope you won’t have the audacity to bail on me again.”

Carisi tries to smile. “Mr. Barba, as I said I am sorry. I really wanna help the best I can, but I couldn’t leave work…”

“And of course, your work is more important than justice.” Barba smiles bittersweetly. This arrogance – or is it ignorance? – angers Barba.

 _“No!_ And I want to get this guy off the streets as much as you do, but I have a responsibility towards the production and all the people who are working on it.” When Barba opens his mouth to retort something, Carisi raises an index finger indicating him to let him explain himself: “We cut streets in New York off from traffic for outside shootings, there are make-up artists, sound technicians, and camera men etc. who are spending time away from their families to come to work and earn their living. Not to mention the insane amount of money that would go to waste, if I didn’t show up. And I know…” Carisi raises his two hands defensively. “All this is nothing compared to rape, but my hands were tied.” Carisi opens his palms to Rafael, obediently.

_Prick._

Barba closes his eyes for a moment. It would just be a waste of time arguing with this. So when he opens his eyes again, he tries to look as annoyed as he can.

“Are we always going to do this during these ungodly hours, because I would really love to go over the testimony while both of our brains are still fresh”, Barba asks harshly.

“Actually, we’re about to finish up shooting over the next few days, so I’ll be all yours”, Carisi smiles rather sheepishly, but he looks handsome all the same. He is wearing a casual suit in dark blue with a button up shirt in the same color. His clothes perfectly set Carisi’s long, slim figure into scene.

Barba wets his lips.

He aims with his head towards his desk behind him: “Sit down.”

“Actually, counselor, I brought you a gift as an apology."

This is when Barba notices a bottle in Carisi’s hands. Barba recognizes the rich amber color right away. There are wheels and strings and a crow artfully splattered over the bottle. It says Door to Heaven.

“Y’know, Bob Dylan has launched a whiskey?” When Barba doesn’t answer, Carisi just continues to talk. “And he’s a fan of the show, so one day he visited the set and gave me this.” Shyly, Carisi lifts the bottle to let him look at it closer, but all that Barba can think about is why a respectable artist like Bob Dylan would bother with the stupidity of a prime time legal drama show. “I don’t like whiskey, so… I guess I thought it would be a nice gift to you. You know, to make up for the trouble I have given you.” Carisi hands the bottle to him with a hopeful smile.

_Bourbon?_

“It’s unprofessional to accept gifts”, Barba interjects while stretching out his hand to take the bottle.

“It’s not a gift, it’s an apology”, Carisi is quick to reply.

“I think anyone would beg to differ.”

“Nobody needs to know who gave it to you”, Carisi replies. “Just see it as a well-earned reward for the work you do.”

“We didn’t win that case yet.”

“Then don’t open it, until you do.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

Barba comments caustically, finally moving away and walks towards his desk. While he rounds the desk to sit down into his chair, he places the bottle in the middle of the desk, unsure what to do with it.

“That will come in handy for you when I’m on the stand”, Carisi grins showing his perfectly white teeth.

Barba huffs complacently. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He points to the chairs in front of his desk.

Carisi obeys and sits down.

He shows all the dimples that Barba had never known he likes.

“Counselor, I have to say… You’ve been pretty hard on me, but I admire your uh… devotion.”

 _It’s suicide_ , Barba thinks while he grabs the bottle to put it into the corner of his desk next to him.

“Mr. Carisi, what we need to do is to anticipate the lines of questioning that the defense could follow and find adequate lines of answers for you. So, now…” Barba says flipping the files open with new vigor. “Let’s go through your statement first.”

Carisi nods. A beautiful strain of blond hair had separated from the hair product and is now nestling against Carisi’s elegant forehead.

“Why is… uh… Miss Fox’s statement out?”

“She had relations with Mr. Harvey”, Barba answers incidentally while searching for the copy of Carisi’s interrogation.

“Her too, huh?” Carisi contemplates. “It’s shocking what… these women feel compelled to do in this business.”

“Pinning someone down while forcing himself on them is a bit more than ‘what these women feel compelled to do’, isn’t it?”

Barba says looking up to him from the file. _How doesn’t he know the difference between sexual coercion and rape?_

“No objection there, but that’s where it starts, right?” Carisi insists and stretches out a hand as if he could find the words he is searching for on his palm. “That these aspiring actresses feel like they need to use their… body in order to get a chance to show their talent. With that idea, it starts.”

Barba lets his green eyes linger on the younger man. He bites his lip. Carisi is right and Barba had already had the idea, too. There are very thin lines to cross between an actress sleeping her way up, an actress being coerced into sex, and rape. And all these blurred lines start with a maybe general belief of these actresses that selling their body is part of the business.

Rita will certainly go for it.

The story is even easily told: Their victim had been willing to have sex in order to get her career going. And the bruises on her wrists? An accident!

“A shallow business, isn’t it?” Barba comments with a tense smile.

But Carisi turns this smile into something sincere. “If you don’t look at it closely maybe…” And Carisi seems to feel compelled to elaborate: “First of all, yeah, we want people to have fun. It’s entertainment”, he shrugs his shoulders. “Not that this is an easy thing. But in what we do, we also reflect society and have an impact far beyond the show. There are people who spend much more time with the stories than the actual time on air. And if along the way, we’re able to embellish our message with some… artful presentation…” Carisi builds a fist with one hand and softly bumps it on the desk. “Then, I guess, we’re far from shallow.” And when Barba whose eyes linger on the actor doesn’t answer, he adds: “Not to forget that the popularity of the show raises awareness to this.” He points to the mess of paperwork between them.

It takes Barba too many moments to realize that he’s staring. A pen that he doesn’t remember picking up asserts light pressure against his upper lips.

He blinks.

He cannot _fall_ for the hot actor who is ten years younger than him.

“Good for you”, he finally manages to say, maybe more sardonically than he had intended to go for. “Not to disregard your profession, but let’s get to the real craftsmanship here.” Barba points to the legal files in front of him.

“Yeah, sure”, Carisi strokes a hand through his hair. “It’s just that I never thought that Harvey would be a guy like that, who takes advantage of them.”

“Okay”, Barba tips the pen on his notepad in front of him. “Don’t use words like ‘taking advantage’ or ‘feeling compelled to’ on the witness stand. You’re euphemizing rape.”

“Sorry, counselor, that’s not what I meant…”

“But it’s what the jury will hear”, Barba snips.

“So I’m wondering, counselor”, Carisi asks casually and leans his elbows on the table. “How do you make sure your witnesses won’t say the wrong thing?”

Barba taps his pen against his notebook again, becoming impatient. “That’s what the answer trees are for.”

“But I’m sure not every witness is prone to follow these answer trees”, and when Barba sends him a punitive look, he quickly adds: “Not that this is not a great method.” He raises his two hands defensively. “What I mean is that every witness is different, some are more compulsive than others, some smarter than others… How do you handle this?”

Barba already opens his mouth to answer, when he comprehends what Carisi is trying to do. “What is this? Prosecution for beginners? I’m trying do to witness preparation here and not teaching a crash course for some ignorant TV lawyer”, he snaps.

“Okay, okay”, Carisi raises his two hands defensively again, but shows his dimples anyway. “It’s just that I’m really fascinated by the law and I have never been involved in a real trial, so…”

Barba shakes his head. “So your fake trials in your television show don’t give you the thrill?”

“It’s not about thrill-seeking, I just want to learn.”

 _How adorable._ Barba rolls his eyes as hardly as he can.

“I don’t have time for this.” Barba cuts his hand sharply through the air. It’s unbelievable how much time he has already lost to that bullshit. “Let’s concentrate on the answer tree, I hope _you_ are smart enough to follow one?”

That’s the point, actually, of an answer tree. That they are easy for anyone to follow. But Barba wouldn’t say that out loud.

“Wouldn’t wanna disappoint you, counselor”, Carisi promises with an even more promising smile.

Fortunately for Barba’s sanity, they really do start preparing Carisi’s statement. Carisi only tries once or twice to swoosh in some legal knowledge that he had required while working on his show. Withering looks from Barba’s side finally convince him to abandon that pattern.

This is how they get some work done and Barba finds himself pleased that Carisi is soaking up everything Barba’s saying with the willingness to follow his instructions.

So after a while, Barba decides that he had set enough authority and hastily goes through his routine of getting relaxed. Or as relaxed as he can get while working.

First, he loosens his tie, opens the first button of his shirt. Then he gets up – an act that Carisi is watching with some kind of surprise which Barba decides to ignore – to take off his suit jacket and hangs it over the back of his desk chair. Finally, he undoes his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves.

In anticipation of seeing the younger man later the day, Barba had spent an extra cup of coffee and fifteen minutes to pick his outfit. Eventually, Barba had even arrived these fifteen minutes too late at the office, but nonetheless couldn’t bring himself to feel silly about his precious time wasted on an imaginary effort to impress a straight man. Because ultimately the purpose is self-serving. Barba loves to choose what he wears carefully and even more so, he loves to look good as a consequence.

Quickly, Barba had decided to avoid all shades of brown. Because, while brown is undoubtedly his color and Barba enjoys the intellectual touch the color gives him, it makes him look older. Usually, he would appreciate the aura of experience he radiates, but in light of his appointment with Carisi Barba had urged to be cocky on a different level.

In the end, Barba had decided on a grey silverish suit – no vest because the summer is too close – with a simple, but very expensive white shirt. Barba could easily wear this suit on a more festive occasion, so he had found it just the right amount of daring to show himself off at work. The statement though is the tie with the matching pocket square, a viridian one with a discreet polka dotted pattern. Needless to say that his suspenders have a similar, yet lighter shade of green. The color is the statement not because it’s audacious, but because it makes his own eyes pop.

Barba walks to the second chair that is placed next to Carisi’s in front of his desk. In his hand, he holds a note pad with the answer tree. Barba makes sure to move the chair a few inches away from Carisi so that when he finally sits down, there is a safe distance between them.

Barba turns the answering tree upside down, shows it to Carisi who lets his eager eyes trail over the hastily scribbled words while paying attention to the explanations Barba gives him. Carisi listens, nods and even laughs at some point before he asks: “Can I?”

“Knock yourself out”, Barba says and hands the answer tree to Carisi.

Barba has a good feeling about this. Carisi is a good looking man which unfortunately always helps, but more than that he knows how to present himself in public. And Barba is planning on using this.

Contently, Barba leans back, placing one elbow comfortably on his desk next to him and slouching a little in his chair. Realizing that Carisi is truly studying the answer tree and taking his time doing so in welcomed silence, Barba lets his mind rest for a second.

This is how he becomes aware of the pencil that is still in his hand. Mindlessly, he starts fidgeting and obviously starts to get reckless because the pencil slips from his hand and falls onto the floor between them.

Carisi, not in a lazy state of mind like Barba, reacts fast. “I got it”, he says before Barba can even move out of his comfortable position and in a heartbeat, Carisi is on his knees.

The moment could have easily been denied by both of them. It only happens in a split second. Carisi could have given him the pencil, sat back into his chair and continued studying the answer tree as if nothing had happened. Barba would naturally pretend that this is the truth and thereby maybe both of them would even later doubt whether or not something had even happened.

But Carisi looks up and Barba’s gaze lingers.

In a split second while Carisi is kneeling in front of Barba who leans back in his chair with so much ease that his legs are slightly spread, Barba clearly sees it.

Carisi spares a look at his crotch.

Like a weight that pulls him inevitably down into the depth of the ocean, Barba’s gaze remains on Carisi’s face and Barba cannot pull it away.

Carisi looks up and maybe this moment doesn’t last very long, but they lock eyes.

And in this moment, Barba understands that Carisi is not straight.

And a weird feeling somewhere behind his stomach tells him that Carisi may have come to the same conclusion about him.

And suddenly, Carisi gives him the pencil back: “There you go.”

“Thanks”, Barba mutters.

Carisi sits back down into the chair and Barba straightens his posture.

They discuss his testimony a little while longer, but before they can wrap it up they decide to call it a night. It’s late and they’re tired anyway. Barba instructs him to learn all branches of the answer tree by heart which, as Carisi doesn’t fail to mention, due to his profession is no hard task for him. They would again meet next week to finalize the statement.

With the promise that Carisi’s assistant will set up an appointment during the day next week, they say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> That's Sonny's look in this chapter. Love y'all!


	3. Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first picture

The whiskey bottle had made it onto Barba’s chest of drawers in his office. Into plain sight. It’s not exactly a professional sin, but also not exactly ethical to accept gifts from substantial witnesses. So Barba had decided to pretend like there is nothing to feel guilty for and therefore he had nothing to hide.

Anyway, he still thinks that he is overthinking this.

It’s just a bottle of whiskey.

Entitled _Door to Heaven_.

It causes a little sting to his ego though that nobody had found the bottle strange yet. _He doesn’t drink Bourbon._ Not Liv, not Carmen. Not even Rita when she had showed up in his office unannounced in the morning.

Barba closes the top button of his dress shirt, tightens his tie and feels thoroughly pleased with himself.

Today had been one of those days where everything had worked out. His closing statement in the morning had made such a good impression that the jury had come back with a guilty verdict by the end of the lunchbreak which does not just mean that another child molester won’t see the light of day again, but also that this awful case is finally shut and behind him. Also by the end of the lunch break, Fin and Amaro had basically giftwrapped one of his upcoming cases by drawing a full confession out of the perp. Barba would prepare a plea deal and this case would be done before their present case even sees the first court date.

Apropos their present case: the rape of an actress.

Rita is unsure about something, Barba knows it. He cannot pinpoint to what it is, but he knows that Rita’s defense must for some reason stand on shaky legs. Otherwise she wouldn’t have come into his office in the morning blowing hot air like a rusty tea kettle.

“Oh really, Rafael, you, too? I didn’t know you were planning to campaign for higher offices after all.”

“Good morning, ray of sunshine.”

“It’s nearly lunchtime, Rafael, cut the crap.”

“I have no idea what you mean, Rita.”

“Really? You’re gonna jump on the #MeToo movement, too?”

“Rita, your client is charged with only one of the rapes he has committed. So there is barely a movement I could cling onto.”

“Then what is this?” Rita basically throws her what Barba is sure is the newest version of an iPhone in his face. Barba is only briefly distracted by the offensive bunny ears it is adorned with before he looks at the screen.

_@LivBenson2201 retweeted_

_My deep admiration to those whose extraordinary acts of courage have brought the seismic shifts in the way our society addresses and understands sexual violence #MeTooDebate_

The original tweet by _@EmiliaFoley_ reads much simpler: _In two weeks I will face him #MeToo_

__

Barba had instructed her. He had insisted that no matter how valuable it is to give the matter a voice in society, no good it will bring to their case if they drag social media into it. From the bottom of his heart, Barba had let out a sigh. He can forgive the victim’s cryptic message, but Olivia? She has no reason to stab a knife into his back.

“The Twitter activities of Miss Foley and Lieutenant Benson are their private matters”, Barba had said neutrally, a very lame response really and Barba had already been thinking about the Riot Act the DA is going to read to him.

“Let’s see if Judge Hold will say the same”, Rita had replied with a smirk.

“If two dubious tweets is all you got, try again, Miss Calhoun.”

“You think just because you can throw that eye candy of an actor into the jury’s face, you have high grounds to walk on?” And Barba had found Rita’s smirk profoundly ungrounded. “Be careful, Rafael, the judge might not be so happy to drag politics into her courtroom.”

And with that Rita had flipped her hair over her shoulders and had strut her slutty Prada heels out of his office.

Barba smirks at the memory. Rita had scratched an expert witness who was supposed to testify about the defendant’s “helping complex” from the witness list. Barba is happy that Rita had chosen to not go down that road, he would have smashed her on the first day of court. But Barba can always count on Rita Calhoun, she doesn’t make it easy for him. Now she only has a few character witnesses left, Barba probably won’t even bother to cross examine them. Everyone is loved by one’s mother. So if Barba compares the prosecution’s witness list to the defense’s witness lift, he must admit that he is in a much better position.

Rita is right about the tweets though, they are not working in Barba’s favor. The defense could claim that this is a strategy to demean the perp’s reputation, but Barba guesses that these two tweets are tame enough yet.

All in all, Rita had proven with her little visit that she is afraid of something. And if this something really is the eye candy that is Sonny Carisi then luck is definitely on Barba’s side. Because Carisi is a sweetheart, he will flash his dimpled smile and charm the jury and the judge on the spot. More than that Carisi is not as green as he looks. He has good intentions and is eager. So when Barba hears the knock on his office door, he knows before even calling him in that Carisi will have worked on his testimony as well as look gorgeous.

Dark slim fitted jeans, a casual pine green blazer, a light denim shirt and most of all the first two buttons of the shirt are open. Barba can see pale skin, a collarbone and some blond chest hair. Barba wonders how hairy his chest is and secretly makes the plan in the back of his mind to google “Sonny Carisi shirtless”.

A white undershirt peaks out on Carisi’s chest and around the man’s delicate neck lies a golden necklace that vanishes under the shirt. Barba is sure that it must be a cross. He used to have a similar one in his teens, but somewhere in his early twenties during his coming out, he had stopped wearing it. It lies now in the same box with his cufflinks.

“Mr. Carisi, I thought I’d never see you in daylight”, Barba mocks when Carisi enters.

He puts one hand on his hips, thereby displaying one of the pink suspenders under his suit jacket. And even though Carmen had organized them all, Barba busily pushes around case files on his desk. He cannot help himself, he is just a show-off. And the light pink flush on Carisi’s dimpled cheeks tells him that he has an audience for it.

“Hi Mr. Barba.” Carisi’s smile is as shy as it is goofy. A simple look at him tells Barba that Carisi feels nervous, his heart is maybe pounding loudly and Barba cannot help but love the idea that this man would squirm under his gaze. “Couldn’t disappoint you again.” Carisi runs a hand through his hair. “I’m still very sorry I did, by the way.”

“I hope you came prepared”, Barba replies simply. “We don’t have much left to do, and if I’m happy with you I’ll think about forgiving you.”

“Yes, uhm”, Carisi swallows hard and Barba raises an inquiring brow. “Hey, counselor, we could do this session in a restaurant. If you want.”

Barba doesn’t reply. He has a paper in his hand, hoping that it is not upside down and looks at Carisi with a neutral expression. Neutral because he doesn’t know what to think. He is not sure if Carisi’s offer originates from the man’s pure kindness or if he wants something from him. Barba guesses that Carisi might try to trick him into giving him advice about how to approach his role as a lawyer. And this would just be beneath Barba.

“Someplace nice.”

Sexual attraction or not, would Barba usually refuse the offer for a free meal in a decent restaurant from anyone? Of course not. But then again, there is sexual attraction. From his side at least. Probably only from his side because Barba thinks Sonny Carisi seems to be one of those Italian-Americans raised by their mammas to have excessively good manners. Probably, Carisi only offers the meal to apologize.

Not that Barba cares.

“I mean, if you haven’t eaten yet?”

Barba hadn’t. He had spent his lunch break behind the glass wall of the interrogation room at the precinct watching Fin and Amaro verbally beating the crap out of that scumbag of a criminal.

Barba starts collecting the files about the case and one after another puts them in his bag.

“Maybe we’d be more comfortable than in the office.”

Technically, they also shouldn’t discuss the case in public, but Barba guesses that Carisi plans to find a quiet place anyway so that he as a celebrity would be able to have this lunch in peace.

Also, the man is right. Not much daylight reaches through into his office.

“So what do you say?”

Barba looks at Carisi again, realizing that the younger man had become increasingly anxious by Barba’s unresponsiveness.

It is a question of professionalism basically. If Barba would be an angel, he would certainly say no. But he is not and if any other person than Carisi would have asked him, Barba wouldn’t even have wasted one thought before agreeing right away. Because, seriously, a lunch even between a witness and a prosecutor does not hurt. Even if Rita would get wind of it, she wouldn’t use it to try to malign his case. It would be a lame shot even for her.

“You can choose the restaurant.”

Barba nestles at his suit jacket, turns his collar up and down, cursing himself for having worn on his jacket before Carisi had arrived. It’s a suit of a dark blue color that nearly turns into black. He would have made a good impression if he could make a show of wearing something on right now. Nevertheless, he manages to look busy even though he has literally nothing to keep himself busy with.

“It can even be expensive”, Carisi says and shrugs his shoulders. “You know, I’m rich.”

Barba likes the amount of self-irony in the joke, but secretly bites the inside of his cheeks. If Carisi knows that this is the right button to push with him, then this is becoming really dangerous.

Barba should treat him like anyone else and just agree. He is hungry after all. But then again, this is not anyone. He likes the attention and open admiration he is receiving from the younger man. And for the sake of their cause, he should be professional, very professional.

He takes the bag in his hand and shows with it to the door.

“I’m sure you know a nice place.”

And Carisi’s beaming face lightens up the whole room.

* * *

The restaurant is innocent enough. Carisi had been smart to pick a place that is very high class but at the same time very hipster. Neither Barba in his three piece suit nor Carisi in his more casual outfit are out of place. Despite hard wooden benches and a black tiled floor, the restaurant offers the impression of genuine comfort between posters of old advertisements and pots of cacti. The décor, while screaming out the claim to be too easy minded to care much is showing that this place is indeed exactly not that, is far away from what Barba usually likes but he secretly thanks Carisi for choosing this place. Because this is not the place to woo somebody. This is not the place to choose for a date, but indeed this is the place that the two of them would have genuinely chosen for witness preparation over lunch.

They are just two busy men combining work, their compulsion for food and their appreciation for finer things in life.

And instead of wine, they drink rhubarb spritzer.

The food is so shamelessly pricey that only children of rich people would pay for it and so excellent that only food lovers would appreciate it. Secretly irritated Barba notes that all the food can be eaten with bare fingers, but he is relieved that Carisi chooses to use his fork.

They are sitting in a private booth in a far corner of the restaurant. Platters of food are set aside and splattered between them on the beautiful wooden table are files and pieces of papers.

Carisi had indeed come prepared knowing the answer tree by heart. They even act out the testimony, Barba pretending to be both himself and Rita and Carisi is answering as instructed shortly, directly, clearly and most importantly with either a polite smile or a sympathetic frown on his face. Whatever the question at hand demands.

Barba would be thoroughly pleased with Carisi if the younger wouldn’t try to steal legal insights from him. But the food is excellent and there is formerly mentioned smile, so Barba decides to give at least short answers. Otherwise he would never get the man to shut up.

“Why don’t you want me to mention that Miss Foley didn’t sleep around?”

“Would you call her Miss Foley if you weren’t on the witness stand?”

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

“Okay, why don’t you want me to mention that Emilia didn’t sleep around on set?”

“You are there to tell the jury that you have walked in after the rape. That’s all the information the jury needs from you.”

“But the defense will try to make her look like a slut, right? At least, if I was his lawyer that’s what I would do." Carisi elaborates using his hands excessively and Barba grimaces.

“Save that for your television show”, he scowls with a dismissive hand gesture.

“But the jurors would be more prone to believe Emilia if I’d testify that she’s not. Am I right, counselor?”

“Like a broken clock.”

Carisi rolls his eyes in an attempt to hide his hurt pride.

Barba sighs deeply. On the one hand, he really doesn’t want to have to discuss with a TV lawyer about his work, but on the other had he clearly cannot just leave this uncommented.

“First, even if she’d screwed with every single man on that set, she doesn’t deserve to be raped…”

“Agreed, but…”

“It doesn’t matter.” Barba cuts with his hand through the air to make Carisi stop talking. “Out of principle”, he adds meaningfully. Carisi is right of course, Barba would rather make the jury understand that the victim is not sleeping her way through the set. Like that it would be much easier to convince the jury that she is credible, but Liv had made him not make the sexual history of victims a point, so here he is. Out of principle.

“Second, it's important that the jury is not distracted. You tell them what you saw. Harvey with open pants and Miss Foley, crying, with her skirt up. This is the strongest evidence I'm going to present: _Your statement._ It's crucial that the jury believes you. I don’t want any of the jurors to think that you're a wheel in the on-set gossip gearbox, okay? It could reduce your credibility. Unnecessarily.”

Carisi looks at Barba thoughtfully for a moment. Then he smiles shortly and looks like he wants to take a note. Which he had had before, by the way. He had scribbled some comments on his answer tree while they had went over it.

“Counselor, if you don’t mind another question…”

“I do.”

“I saw Lieutenant Benson’s tweet. How are you going to handle the attention of social media on this case?”

For a moment, Barba feels off guard. He looks over the papers splattered on the table between them, wondering where Carisi had found Twitter on them.

“We won’t entertain any social media attention.”

“But that’s ridiculous.”

“Come again?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barba. But… I mean… Seriously? How are you going to do that?”

The lack of understanding from both of them mirrors in each other’s faces. Barba doesn’t like feeling like he needs to defend himself. “I instructed Miss Foley and Lieutenant Benson to not report about the trial on any social media again. So did the DA.” _If Twitter is on it, you need to win this, Barba_ , McCoy had said to him the other day. Barba had known better than to roll his eyes. As if Twitter is the only reason why he needs to win this case, but his boss had made himself clear. The extra attention will neither do his office nor the case any good. In that order.

“Did he instruct Twitter, too?”, Carisi jokes, but he soon realizes that his sarcasm is out of place. “I mean, sure, Harvey is just a producer. Nobody knows him and Emilia only had minor roles, but I'm famous.” Carisi puts his two hands on his chest.

Barba only raises a brow. “You stud.”

“I mean it, Mr. Barba. You said so yourself, I'm your most important witness. There's no way, they won’t tweet about that.” Barba draws his eyes together wondering who exactly Carisi means by _“they”._ “Even Harvey and Emilia have a couple of thousand followers”, Carisi continues. “There's just no way that this won’t happen on Twitter.”

“Well, it can’t. It could malign the case. So I'm also officially instructing you to not tweet about it.”

Carisi shakes his head in disbelief and Barba can’t blame him because he had quietly thought the same thing when he had watched the DA throwing the book at Lieutenant Benson for her retweet the other day. Sure, Barba definitely agrees that they shouldn’t inflame social media attention, but this case is about television after all and the rape had happened on the set of a popular legal drama. Keeping social media attention low, in Barba’s opinion is rather wishful thinking. But he has his instructions.

“Why don’t you use it for the case anyway, counselor?” Barba looks up to Carisi. “The #MeToo movement is strong, can’t you use that to your advantage?”

Barba cannot help but think that Carisi sounds a little smarter on his show than in real life, even though the lines that the writers give him are not nearly as substantial as the actor’s arguments now. _It must be that accent,_ Barba thinks. This accent fits better _elsewhere…_

“The defense could claim that the defendant has a disadvantage because we wrongly put him in line with the perps of this movement.”

“Jurors are not allowed to do any independent investigation of the matters involved in the trial…”

“Booyah _Suspicion_ Law!”

Carisi’s mouth develops a pout, clearly offended by the way Barba is belittling the legal drama show he stars in.

“Jurors might not be allowed, but obviously every one of them knows how to use the internet”, Barba explains. “And the judge knows that, too. I don’t want to risk her granting any motions that the defense may try to pull off.”

Carisi is still sulking and Barba finds himself to find the pout on these lips an absolute delight.

“Still”, Carisi insists. “You need a plan.” Barba rolls his eyes hardly as a reply. He cannot believe a TV lawyer tries to give him advice. “ _Suspicion_ had an episode about #MeToo in the first season! And in the fourth season. And they’re planning one for the next...”

“What?” Barba is alarmed.

“Come on, Mr. Barba. A rape happened on set. But our ratings are good, so the network isn't gonna cancel the show. And if they’re not cancelling it, they kinda have to deal with it.”

“So it’s all about the money, huh?” Barba spits bitterly, crashing his fork in one of the appetizer left on the platter.

“He says eating a twenty one dollar seafood frikkadel.”

Barba looks up to Carisi in surprise. Unwillingly, he bites his lips. He knows it is a lame try to hide his delighted smile. _The attitude_. Barba hadn’t expected that. And he absolutely loves it.

Carisi looks back to him and slowly an amused grin forms around his lips. Self-irony, _yes,_ Barba should have some of this, too. So Barba grins back even though he is very aware that this, this is making them have a moment.

“That being said, I won’t try to convince you to split the bill. But in case it ever comes up, say we have.”

Carisi chuckles. His stunningly blue eyes flicker in amusement. “Sure.”

“I mean it, simply for the sake of the case nobody should get a wrong impression about what this is.”

Carisi studies Barba’s face for a long moment. The ghost of a smile still on his lips. Finally, he raises a brow and says: “This is just appreciation for the work you do.”

“Yes, sure, you’re basically doing charity.” Barba puts his fork into the last appetizer left on the platter. A seafood frikkadel apparently.

“No, it’s just admiration for your talent.”

Carisi’s blatant compliment takes Barba off guard. With big eyes he looks at the younger man whose smooth face is all soft and open. _He looks like a puppy_ , Barba thinks. And then, Barba doesn’t know why, he looks at Carisi’s lips. Flushed lips, all red and kissable.

Barba looks away as if nothing odd had happened. To his relief, Carisi gives no visible reaction.

“Hey counselor”, Carisi begins. “We should do this more often. It could help me prepare for my role.”

“No.”

Carisi although taken aback doesn’t give up. “I think I could really learn a lot from you.”

“No.”

“You're a really good lawyer…”

“I know." Barba cocks a brow. “And no.”

For a long moment, these smart blue eyes study Barba’s face.

“Why not?”

Barba blinks slowly and takes in a deep breath. They had more than five different appetizers, Barba hadn’t paid any attention to the prices in the menu because Carisi had ordered for them, but if they cost as much as that seafood thingy, then Carisi is throwing him quite a pricey lunch break. Maybe just out of politeness Barba should answer.

“I don’t have time”, and when Carisi opens his mouth, Barba quickly adds. “To waste on a stupid TV show.”

Again, Carisi purses his lips.

After a moment of silence, he says: “The show is representing victims, too, you know. I mean not actual victims obviously, but victims of crimes in a larger sense.”

“You’re playing a defense attorney.”

“Who represents the falsely accused”, Carisi defends himself.

Barba rolls his eyes hardly. The lack of logic in the set-up of the drama is so obvious that Barba doesn’t even want to point it out. “Because you always know beforehand if your client is innocent.”

“How do you know I play a defense attorney by the way?” Carisi asks and Barba’s face frowns. “I thought you wouldn’t waste your time on a ‘stupid TV show’”. Carisi points out the actual air quotes.

Barba doesn’t answer and pointedly ignores the sweet grin on Carisi’s face. He needs to force himself to not imitate Carisi’s pout from earlier before.

“You know, there's a gala for the Joyful Heart Foundation next week, you should come.”

“Are you the host? Because otherwise you cannot just invite people”, Barba comments sarcastically.

“Of course you're welcome.”

“Why?”

“Because of what you do for the victims.”

“I’m only representing individual victims, you with your fame help the victims in a larger sense.”

Barba is being mean on purpose. On the one hand out of spite and on the other hand because he has absolutely no interest in going to some stiff event with actors who think they know his job better than he does.

“Hey, hey, no, no.” Carisi leans forward. “This is not what I meant.” And Barba’s heart skips a beat when Carisi puts a hand on his. “You do great work for the victims.” Carisi gives Barba’s hand a kind squeeze. “And I'm sure nobody even remotely appreciates this enough.”

Carisi had already leaned back again, freed his hand, but Barba needs to swallow hard. There is no reason to think that this had been any more than a friendly gesture. It is just in Carisi’s nature, Barba had gathered that much, to be caring in a way that is borderline inappropriate. This is why Barba curses his own hammering heart.

* * *

An hour later, Barba is waiting in front of the elevator. The DA’s office is crowded and Barba thinks, for maybe the thousandth time, that he might be able to leave out one session of jogging a month if he would start using the stairs. But what would his suits look like if he would be walking stairs in them all the time?

Barba anticipates that he is not going to catch the first elevator so he lazily takes out his phone and is mildly surprise when he sees a notification: _@LivBenson2201, @AmandaYALL and @noclue_amaro have liked a tweet in which you were tagged_.

Barba does have a Twitter account. Pro forma. He even remembers that he had actively decided against the username _@ADARafaelBarba_ because he intends to not be an ADA anymore one day. But nevertheless the account had always been only intended to stalk his coworkers, so the account  _@RafaelBarba_ contains zero tweets and zero likes, but a handful of followers for some reason.

All the more suspicious he is about being tagged.

Quickly, Barba opens the Twitter application and he nearly chokes on his own tongue. He starts coughing vehemently and feels a few pairs of eyes out of the crowd directed at him. He clears his throat and forces himself to calm down.

He takes one deep breath. And then another.

The tweet contains a picture that shows Carisi and him. It had been shot with a phone by someone who must have been walking by their table in the restaurant. This someone had captured them right in the moment where Carisi had been leaning forward with his hand covering Barba’s.

The tweet by _@InNewYorkCity_ says:

_Look who I saw having lunch together… ADA @RafaelBarba and @SonnyCarisi obviously preparing for the upcoming trial against Kevin Harvey in which the lead actor of Suspicious is going to testify. Go team #Barisi! Get justice for Emilia! #MeTooDebate_

__

Barba clicks on the author of the tweet, the title of the account says "Watch Blog for Justice in New York City" and the description reads _About New York City's most heinous crimes, directly out of the courtrooms of New York City…_

Barba has no idea who this is. He knows a few crime bloggers because they constantly show up on court steps bugging him with annoying questions. He had never heard about this one though. With relief, Barba notes that this one only has about five hundred followers.

With dread, Barba realizes just one second later that the thirty minute old tweet already has more than five hundred likes. Barba opens the list of people who had liked the tweet. Most of the likes seem to be from fans of Carisi, but also _@MunchhausenNo1_ , _@ADACaseyNovak_ and _@DepChiefDodds_ are among them. At least this is a comfort, the DA cannot make him responsible for this mess if all these official people have liked the tweet, too.

A ping makes him look up, an elevator with space for him has arrived and Barba steps into it. Squeezed between sweaty people in expensive clothes wearing cheap cologne, he cannot fight the urge to open the picture again and study it thoroughly. He zooms in close on the expression on both of their faces. The picture is pretty blurry, there are water glasses in the way. Barba finds himself to look handsome in his dark suit with the expressive pink in tie and pocket square. His shoulders are relaxed and a brow of his cocked up. He cannot see whatever it is he fears to find. Actually, nothing in this picture suggests that Carisi’s gesture is anything more than… _insisting, maybe?_

Carisi is leaning forward with furrowed brows, his hand touching his only feather lightly and Barba is listening to him with keen eyes.

Together with the text of the tweet, it is implied that Carisi is swearing Barba in to give his best to get justice.

Innocent enough.

 _@FINallevel_ had liked the tweet before the elevator arrives on his floor. Barba would have expected more of him.

By the time he reaches his office, _@CarmenCarmichael_ had liked the tweet.

“Seriously?”, Barba asks his assistant who sits at her desk with her phone still in her hand.

“Go team Barisi!”, Carmen replies amused and bumps a fist into the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, was this a date?
> 
>   
> In this chapter Sonny looks a little like this...
> 
> The title of this chapter is a mixture of Bob Dylan's Knocking on Heaven's Door and Heaven by Bryan Adams. [Liv's Tweet is of course a stolen quote by the one and only Mariska Hargitay.](https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/mariska-hargitay-praises-metoo-monte-carlo-tv-honors-1120669)
> 
> Also, I'm so lame, I squeezed like twelve Barisi lines into one chapter. Sorry for that.
> 
> The idea with people shipping them on Twitter solely belongs to soul_writerr. She also deserves big praise today for motivating me to write.
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoy. Don't forget I love comments and kudos. Thanks for reading! For the next chapter I can tease that we are going to see an extremely cute Barba.


	4. In a private moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barba gets giddy.

The next day Barba leads the squad out of the office of New York’s District Attorney. Barba had always found his boss’s face too soft for the job that he does. With his bushy eyebrows Jack McCoy rather looks like a man who should wear a Santa costume instead of prosecuting New York’s most heinous criminals.

This time an artery on his neck had popped out because he had been that furious. _“It’s not just enough to catch the guy we also need to convict him! This stupid app is more effective than a courtroom! You are NYPD detectives, did you even think before liking that picture?”_

Secretly, Barba had felt a profound relief in his chest the entire time because while they had talked about _that picture_ and how it is ruining the reputation of the DA’s office for about forty five minutes, seemingly nobody – and Barba had been in this room with four fine detectives and the DA – had found anything suspicious about it. The shared lunch, the hand touching, the portmanteau, nothing had been worth even mentioning.

_Thank god!_

The conclusion of the DA’s lecture had been as simple as it had been expected: No one involved in the case will be allowed to comment or like anything that concerns the trial or the #MeToo movement in general. It is important that neither the detectives nor the prosecution suggest in any way that the defendant – _“who is still innocent until proven guilty”_ McCoy had told them with one finger raised as if they were third graders who need to be reminded to do their homework – is any way comparable to the perps of the #MeToo movement.

Again, the horrible, _horrible_ hashtag #Barisi had been ignored by everyone. And Barba had sent up a quick thank you prayer for this.

Because in fact, and Barba won’t rub that under anyone’s nose, there are reasons to not ignore that stupid hashtag. That evening, cursing himself for not being able to tame his own curiosity and at the same time feeling like committing a rookie error, Barba had spent the embarrassing amount of one and a half hours before going to sleep scanning through the many comments underneath that cursed tweet, far too many for his own taste.

Most of them, Barba would guess a solid eighty five to ninety percent of the comments, were in some way referring to the text: political comments about #MeToo, supportive fans of Emilia Foley or _Suspicion_ , even angry fans of Kevin Harvey or a wide range of members of various feminist or anti-feminist groups. Even though Barba had been irritated from time to time by the sometimes questionable choices of gifs or emojis, these answers had, after all, concealed nothing unexpected.

A small, but unmissable amount of comments though were referring to what there is to be seen in the snapshot of him and Carisi. Even this group consists mostly of fans of Carisi commenting on how handsome he is and Barba notices not without pride that the compliment, here and there, rubs off on him. But, not surprising after the thorough search that Barba had conducted, he had finally found the comments that he had been afraid to find: _Aren’t they a little too cozy_ or  _They're cute_ with a rainbow emoji, amongst others. The latter one sent by _@QueerLegalAid646_.

Only because he had been in the secure darkness of his bedroom, Barba had allowed himself to flush.

“No more hashtags”, McCoy had dismissed them. Barba had noticed his boss nervously blinking while the detectives had ruefully looked to the floor and dutifully nodded their heads.

The only problem left which of course is going to be Barba’s to solve is to instruct the victim and their main witness to stop tweeting about the trial. Carisi won’t be a problem, his hero-worship demands from him to do everything Barba tells him. But how to tell the victim to not advocate her case, Barba has still no idea. And obviously he cannot ask Liv in her rebellious mood to change society to help him.

Barba wonders why the DA’s office has no PR specialist for cases like this.

“What crawled up his ass and died?”, Rollins asks behind him.

Barba and Liv are leading the little group with Amaro and Rollins behind them, as always walking too close to each other, and Fin walking in the back.

Liv turns her head around to send her detective a punitive look, but Barba answers her anyway: “The mayor, and as rumors have it lately also the governor, are all over him because there were a lot of sexual assault cases in the past that hadn’t been prosecuted.”

“Because they’d rather believe the accused than the victims”, Liv comments bitterly.

“And thanks to social media and people from the entertainment industry coming forward, these cases are now becoming public”, Barba adds.

“And that doesn’t put a good light on the DA’s office”, Rollins concludes. _Wow, she should be a detective_.

“But detectives, _please_ stick to what McCoy said”, Barba demands, rolling the _s_ of the “please” insistently over his tongue.

He nods to Carmen as they had arrived in front of his office.

Carmen hands him some mail and bites the inside of her cheeks. “Hello Mr. Barba”, she purrs with a mischievous smile, leaning innocently against her desk.

Barba gives her a mildly irritated look when he accepts the envelopes. “No need to risk the case because of some ill-considered tweets”, Barba adds talking into the direction of the detectives, just realizing that the whole special victims unit of the 16th precinct has enough time to randomly follow him to his office during work hours.

As Barba doesn’t have more to discuss with them, he decides to simply go on with his day. With a sweeping movement Barba turns to his office, opens the door and enters.

He notices them immediately. In fact, it’s impossible to not see them. They are just huge.

Gigantic even. And there are so many of them.

And Barba knows that he is beaming. This is why he is especially grateful to have his back turned to everyone who, Barba is sure, have followed him inside. He takes a few moments to gather strength to keep a straight face. He moves his lips around to make his facial muscles relax.

“Wow!” He hears Liv behind him.

Barba takes one deep breath.

“Counselor!” This impressive voice definitely belongs to Rollins.

And one more.

Nonchalantly Barba turns around. He hopes that his expression is neutral, neutral enough but not too neutral. The expressions of the four detectives lined up by the door of his office are exactly the opposite. Each one of them wears the same sparkle in their eyes and the same smirk on their faces. Even Carmen hadn’t been able to resist. She’s leaning in the doorway for no other reason than catching her boss’s reaction to the one hundred red roses on his desk.

“Secret admirer, counselor?”, Fin asks and Barba gives him a look in return. Somehow, he would have expected more of him.

“Who are those from?”, Amaro points over Barba’s shoulder to the object in question.

“You will never know”, Barba answers coolly, even cocking his brow a little.

 _And I deserve an Academy Award_ , he thinks.

“Come on, counselor”, Rollins insists with her Southern charm. “How big is that bunch? You can see those from the moon.”

“Why are you all here again?”, Barba asks and to his surprise Carmen blushes and quickly disappears.

If he didn’t trust that woman more than himself, Barba would be angry at her for letting him walk in on one hundred red roses on his desk with all of SVU’s detectives behind him.

And all of SVU’s detectives smile from one ear to the other, either biting a bottom lip or the inside of the cheek. Their expressions circle like vultures around delight, gloating and genuine amusement.

“Just go, everyone!”

Barba sighs and with a sweeping hand gesture, he makes them leave his office.

Fin and Amaro give him looks of acknowledgment that Barba finds totally uncalled for. Liv gestures him to call her which he will absolutely not ( _Why does she think he would?_ ) and Rollins seriously winks at him. It is still a mystery to him how a woman with her delicate features can be that brusque.

Before he closes the door behind the detectives, he holds onto the doorframe, leaning outside towards his assistant’s desk he says: “Carmen, give me ten minutes… or fifteen.”

He waits until Carmen who avoids looking him in the eye answers him with a nod.

He quickly shuts the door and closes the blinds.

With his office walled off from the rest of the world, Barba finally lets his own smile take over his face first and then his whole body.

He throws the envelopes and his briefcase onto the couch next to the door. His suit jacket follows soon after.

His heart is beating wildly and he feels his face turning red.

Suddenly his knees feel weak and he leans with the back against the wall. He takes a few deep breaths while he studies the one hundred red roses on his desk across the room.

_I can’t believe it._

They are placed in a simple, thick glass vase. Barba believes that this is the biggest vase that he has ever seen in his life and nevertheless it looks like it cannot carry all those roses.

Barba notices that the roses are not full-blown yet. The roses have a beautiful rich color, a light, but expressive red. They lean over the edge of the vase as if there is not enough space for all of them. _Maybe it’s more than one hundred roses_ , Barba thinks.

All in all, the arrangement is wild, not perfect.

He covers his mouth with his two hands and shakes his head, still unable to grasp the meaning of this moment. He bites his bottom lip and feels his cheeks aching from his big smile.

Barba grins across the room at his one hundred red roses. He can feel every beat of his heart in his chest. Slowly, he pushes himself from the wall and with a light hop, he closes the distance to his desk.

Even though he hadn’t known about attraction, the one and only person in his life who is crushing him with admiration seems to be the only candidate for the sender.

In amazement, Barba reaches out to lightly touch one of the roses. He notices a little paper card in the middle of the splendor. Cautiously, Barba takes the card between two fingers. It’s simple cardboard, probably even recyclable. It has a little adhesive label with the contact info of the florist wrapped around its side so that it works like a seal. As the label is undamaged, Barba understands that nobody has read the card. This is a very considerate precaution, but he knows that Carmen would have never peeked.

With his fingernail he tears open the label, opens up the card and reads it.

The text had been typed by computer.

_Don’t pretend you don’t like it._

The message lets something in his chest blossom. The words hit him right in the stomach where they cause an inexplicable tingle that starts to crawl up into his chest where it expands into a warm feeling. From the bottom of his heart, this feeling sends a smile into his face.

Barba can almost hear the accent twirl around those words, the warm voice with a frisky tone. His lips would probably form a playful smile.

Barba tips the card lightly against his upper lip.

He lets his gaze wander over the one hundred red roses, still wondering what to make of the moment.

This is the first time anyone had ever given him flowers.

One hundred red roses may be a cliché but Barba cannot help to find them absolutely beautiful, just like the man who had sent them.

Sure, he had received gifts from lovers before. And not even small ones, Barba has to admit, thinking about a particular skiing trip to Gstaad or afternoons on yachts at North Cove. As exciting as those gifts had been, they were always, very unromantically so, wrapped into the implication of sex. Not that Barba had minded. These roses though, without any pretext and wholeheartedly gifted without any suggestion, probably even without any expectation, give him a very different kind of thrill.

 _Cliché my ass_ , Barba thinks. Red roses, they are classy. And probably the most considerate gift that he had ever received.

Closing his eyes, Barba starts to slowly move his hips.

Barba lifts up his two hands and takes a few steps back and forth, moving to the melody in his head.

His feet only stop moving when his phone is vibrating in his pocket. Annoyed, he pulls the phone out. The message reads [ _Who are those from?_ ]. Barba rolls his eyes. Stupid technology, can’t he just be left in his moment? And since when is he talking with Benson about lovers? [ _Secret admirer_ ] he types a quick answer and puts his phone back into his pocket.

He thinks for a moment and then takes his phone out of his pocket again to take a picture of his one hundred red roses.

He merely resists to set the picture as his wallpaper.

Barba puts both his phone and the card to his chest and thinks about what to do. Barba would love to take the roses home, to place them in the middle of his living room where he would be able to look at them as much and as often as he wants to. Unfortunately, he spends most of his time at work, so his office is actually the better place to keep them.

The only problem is that Barba still fears that he could jeopardize his work. But then again, apparently nobody expects some unprofessional relation, so Barba seems to be on the safe side there.

This is when Barba decides that the roses will stay where they are. In plain sight, because he has nothing to hide.

That leaves the bigger question: _How to react?_

With no question involved, Barba is sure that no answer is expected of him. So in a way, Barba would love to simply savor these flowers as long as they blossom and nothing further than that. But of course, giving no reaction is absolutely unrealistic.

Barba rounds his desk and sits down into his chair. He picks up the file of the case and searches for Carisi’s telephone number. There is a creepy feeling somewhere between his chest and his stomach that reminds him that he shouldn’t even do that.

Anyway, he creates a new contact entitled “Carisi” and opens up a chat with him.

[ _Admittedly, I do_ ], he answers simply.

The absence of gray bubbles indicate to him that he cannot expect any answer soon. He chews on his lips while his fingers rest on the buttons of his phone. With a sigh, he types out another text: [ _But I will continue to pretend_ ].

Barba wets his lips, thinking about what to add. Something less cryptic maybe.

He leans back into his chair and giving in his urge to be perfectly comfortable, he puts his shoes on his desk. Undeniably, it’s an impudent act to violate the wooden tabletop with his 1K Blucher shoes. The dirt of Big Apple’s streets in brazen proximity to sensitive case files.

The socks that peek out under his cocoa brown trousers shine in bright orange. And in the back of his mind, Barba decides that for the next days he will match his accessories to rosy red.

With a fond smile Barba lets his eyes trail over his one hundred red roses again. Countless thin petals gleam in a confident red color. Barba wonders how much time he will have for appreciating them until they would wither.

With one last sigh, he tosses his phone somewhere on his desk, places his feet back onto the grimy carpet and reaches for the casefile of Kevin Harvey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> barbaesparza has really improved this chapter with her suggestions, bless her!
> 
> The next two chapters will be more about the case but I can tease a lot of pining.
> 
> I can't even put into words how much I love your comments, you guys, they motivate me so don't be shy. Thanks to everyone for reading and supporting!


	5. In awe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time in court

_Boredom._

Barba thrums his fingers on the polished wooden table. He purposely doesn’t spare a look to the files in front of him. The message is clear: Of course he had studied them extensively over the last few weeks. He knows every word of every statement by heart, his strategy is well thought through and flawless. Thus, there is simply no need to give those papers in front of him any more attention.

Instead Barba searches for bits of fluff on his beige suit jacket. Not that there are any. Barba also doesn’t find any wrinkles that he could soothe, which means that the extra money he gives his genius of a dry cleaner for ironing his suits extra thoroughly pays off. So for lack of options, Barba starts fumbling with his burgundy tie. Very unlike him, this particular tie doesn’t have a pattern and Barba doesn’t even remember to which occasion he had last worn it, but all his other red ties are too bright for the light colored suit he had chosen to wear. Scrutinizing himself in the mirror in the morning, he had contently noted that the contrast between the pale sandy color of the suit and the dark bloody color of the tie gives him an aura of subliminal drama. In a weird way, he had felt like fitting into the narrative of the case rather well.

While adjusting his pocket square, he clears his throat.

_Irony._

There is no other reason why Barba makes it a point to be ten minutes early, only to wait at the prosecution’s desk and pull off his show, all the while actually sitting with his back to the ones who are supposed to see it. The ones he faces, the ones who can see his absent gaze and relaxed posture have nothing to gain from his show.

Rita doesn’t need it, she knows all about cocked eyebrows and pursed lips, simply by practising those gestures herself on every single one of her workdays. Sure, the show is a part of their own personal game between the two of them, but for the trial itself it is unnecessary really.

The show is also not meant for the jurors. Although Barba is intentionally oozing buoyancy from every pore and textile on himself, confidence is almost always what jurors need from him. This is why it’s not necessary to make his attitude a point towards them either. Likewise, his show will not win him any points with the judge, because Justice Hold is a woman of plain composure who simply does not care about the appearance of lawyers.

So, no, his attitude is not for those who face him. His show is directed to the people behind his back. All this is simply for the audience.

_Farce._

That is everything that this is. Barba is nowhere near bored. Indeed the vague gurgling sound coming from his stomach indicates that the upcoming trial does not leave him unaffected at all. Inside of him a dangerous mixture is boiling and it is Barba’s primary concern to not let it come to the surface.

On the one hand surely, as an important trial is about to begin any minute, Barba feels the obligatory amount of nervousness but he is able to tame that sentiment with an even bigger one: his coolness. On the other hand, Barba feels excited. Indeed not only excited, he feels thrilled even. A kind of thrill that seems to be totally inappropriate considering the seriousness of their matter, but Barba cannot help it and he must even admit to himself that this thrill helps him get up every morning to face this hell all over again.

But most of all, and that’s something that Barba would never at admit to anyone, he feels anxious. Terrified even. Or to put it simply: He is scared shitless that he would fail. And not just fail with all the implications for his job, the politics around the criminal justice system or even society maybe. No, he is so afraid to disappoint people, the victim, the actual one as well as the other ones whose cases he couldn’t put to trial, Liv and maybe even himself. And he feels all this dread while his only job is actually making sure that a rapist doesn’t walk.

His empty strain of thought has an end, when the judge enters the courtroom. The busy mumblings in the room cut off immediately and everybody rises from their seats.

Justice Hold is a tiny, middle aged Asian woman with a timeless perm who Barba knows to have a pillow placed on her judge’s chair.

As always the justice doesn’t waste much time, she puts on tiny oval reading glasses and reads out a few words on papers she’s holding in her hand. Everyone is addressed shortly, formalities are exchanged quickly and after that, it is Barba’s duty to open the trial.

“Mr. Barba, please.”

So Barba gets up, with quick fingers he buttons up his suit jacket. The fingers of his left hand are wrapped around index cards that contain notes for his opening statement. Not that he needs those.

“Your Honor, dear members of the jury.”

So Barba lets go of the index cards. He has his eyes already set on the jury.

“The defense will want to make you believe that what has happened in that changing room was initiated by Miss Foley.”

Barba forms a confident smile around his lips and lets it reach his eyes.

“The defense will want to make you believe that it was all part of her plan to advance her acting career.”

The adrenalin kicking in tells him that now his real show starts. By composing himself, he will also present the case of the victim. There is no challenge in that, but he needs to make sure to address all of his audience members in the right way.

“The defense will probably even want to make you believe that this is part of the business.”

Deliberately, Barba doesn’t point a finger to his left and he doesn’t even try to catch Rita’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t need to know what she thinks of his words. Whatever he says Barba knows how Rita would respond anyway: She will throw her thin hair over her shoulder, pretend to take a few notes and roll her eyes as if Barba is all wrong about everything. But this time, Barba won’t give her the pleasure of playing along. No, this time her reactions are not even worth being recognized.

“But the people will prove that _none_ of this is true.”

Barba still stands behind his desk. Both hands are spread out in front of him, he is leaning onto his fingertips. Like so many things he curses his father for, he again loathes to have inherited his small height from him.

“None.”

Barba is determined to continue this the way he had started it. With his back to the audience. Whoever sits there, whatever reporter or crime blogger, Barba doesn’t care. _I have nothing to say to you._

“Miss Emilia Foley was lured into the changing room by Mr. Kevin Harvey with the lie that he could offer her a role in one of his upcoming movies.”

Barba knows how to use his voice. He knows that lowering it to a near whisper makes everyone sit at the edge of the seat, metaphorically hanging on his lips, but for sure pricking their ears to not miss a word of what he is saying.

Barba walks around the desk and steps towards the jury’s stand. He makes sure to look each juror, one after the other, in the eye and grant them a warm smile.

“Only that there was never going to be a movie.”

Picking jury members is a long-winded process, but one that Barba takes seriously. One could think that having people who are easily persuaded in the jury would help his cause, but even if they claim to believe in right or wrong, right or wrong is indeed an area as gray as stormy rain clouds. The danger of jurors being enticed by the defense is a risk that Barba is not willing to take. So this time, as always, Barba had made sure that there were no morons on the jury and this time, specifically, he had made sure to choose jurors who were either young, technophiles or television junkies.

“Mr. Harvey pinned Miss Foley down, held her by the wrist while he brutally forced himself onto her.”

Barba takes a deep breath in an attempt to grasp the impossibility of these few words to describe rape.

Barba places a flat hand on the banister of the jury stand. He knows that his green eyes are wide open looking soft. He needs to make the jurors understand the weight of the responsibility they have. And proximity is surely a way to build up the imagination of closeness, a necessary precondition for the jury to empathize with the victim.

"The prosecution will prove that with the physical evidence of the rape kit and with one credible outcry witness.”

Barba slowly walks along the length of the jury stand, stroking his hand over the banister. His other hand hangs loosely at his side. Confident, but affectionate, this is how Barba needs to present himself to the jurors. Strong, but friendly. All the anger inside of him, all the fury he feels for that man on the defense stand who takes what he wants without caring for the lives of others, these emotions need to stay inside of him. But then again, maybe his contempt can show a little in the glistening of his eyes or even in a twitch of his upper lip. For the sake of getting this rapist convicted nothing more than that.

“Because Miss Foley said no.”

The advantage of lowering his voice is that when he raises it again, the effect of the words multiplies.

“Because Miss Foley did not initiate anything. She did not.”

Barba bumps a fist on the banister of the jury stand.

“Because Miss Foley did not seek to have sex in order to advance her acting career. She did not.”

Barba spins around, faking to walk back to his desk, but he stops after two or three steps, turns back to the jury one more time as if he had just remembered that there is one last sentence that he had wanted to add.

“And because, dear members of the jury…”

Barba squares his shoulders and composes his facial features into a stern expression.

“There is no business in this world where someone needs to be forced to have sex.”

He presses the palms of his two hands together as if he wanted to send a prayer, but instead he points towards the jury.

“What has happened was rape.”

Barba nods his head. He knows that his opening statement is incredibly short, Rita is probably rolling her eyes out of her head by now. Anyway the evidence in this case is scarce, but strong so Barba had decided to adjust his opening statement accordingly.

“Thank you.”

That is going to be his general strategy for the trial, he will keep it short but memorable.

Barba takes a moment to take in the jury. It seems that his opening statement proves to be successful. The attention of the jurors is still with him. All he can see before he turns around is a light flush on an elderly woman’s face, fluttering eyelashes from a younger woman, a rigid expression from a middle-aged man and a sublime look from a younger man. _So far so good_ , Barba thinks when he spins around on his heels.

He sees _piercingly_ blue eyes immediately.

Barba’s heartbeat raises to an alarming speed. He suddenly also starts getting very aware of how hard his heart beats against the inside of his ribcage. He feels his blood is rushing through his veins faster and that gives Barba an inexplicable _thrill…_

Carisi sits in the second row of the audience. He is leaning slightly forward, a tender strain of hair has fallen on his elegant forehead. His lips are slightly parted. His features are so smooth that they give him an impossible soft expression. Carisi’s face looks so shamelessly vulnerable that Barba against his will fears that Carisi could get broken if anyone else would see him in that moment.

Carisi is simply _staring_ at him.

Under pretty eyelashes, he looks at Barba. With all of his concentration and his full attention. Carisi’s gaze is so intense that Barba wonders whether the younger man is even blinking.

But what causes Barba’s heart to sting the most is the pure honesty with which Carisi is staring.

Barba is not sure whether it is really the right word, but for lack of describing the beauty that he sees there a few feet away from him between coats and hairstyles of other audience members, he has no other way to express it.

Carisi is absolutely _in awe_.

When Carisi realizes that Barba looks back at him, his already pink cheeks turn dark red and the tip of his tongue wets his lips.

All that Barba can do to avoid letting out a deep sigh is to swallow hard.

Barba feels that his lips are doing something. He doesn’t know whether they form a breathless “hi” or a small smile. He can only hope they had pursed in disapproval.

Barba sits down and misses the first five minutes of Rita Calhoun’s opening statement.

He hadn’t known that Carisi would come to the first day of court. Rita Calhoun hadn't filed any motions to ban the witnesses from the audience before their statement, so Carisi has the right to be here.

While walking back to the prosecution’s desk, he had meant to look at the victim, give her an encouraging nod – _I have everything under control_ – or simply find approval in Olivia’s eyes. Instead he had wasted precious time in court staring back at the most beautiful man in the world.

* * *

“The defense files motion for a gag order, Your Honor.”

“What, why?”

Barba curses himself for the hastiness of his answer. The ineloquence is simply embarrassing, but Rita had caught him by surprise. And his mind simply hadn’t been fast enough to decide whether to handle this with outrage or indifference.

“I agree. On what grounds, Miss Calhoun?”, Justice Hold asks and her face looks like she might as well be asking for extra cheese on her pizza.

“The prosecution should be happy that the defense doesn’t file motion to declare a mistrial considering the cyberbullying my client is receiving.”

“Bullying? That’s ridiculous.”

“Miss Calhoun, may I remind you that I had decided beforehand to not close this trial to the public and my decision still stands.”

“The defense respects your decision, Your Honor, but the trial receives an excessive amount of media attention that hurts my client.”

“Your Honor, if Miss Calhoun refers to a certain tweet from the victim a few weeks ago, then I can assure that Miss Foley has agreed to omit to post anything on her social media accounts until the end of the trial.”

“Your Honor, Mr. Barba might have noticed that there are far more people tweeting about the trial than only the alleged victim.”

“Your Honor, if Miss Calhoun intends to shut up all Twitter users, then someone should explain to her how the internet works.”

“Your Honor, the defense has thankfully noticed that the prosecution has decided to silence insulting tweets by members of the NYPD, but there is the need to silence other persons on the prosecution’s witness list as well.”

“Your Honor, I can assure Miss Calhoun that the investigating detectives will also omit to post anything about the case even though I have to say-”

“Your Honor, I mean the prosecution’s main witness.”

“Excuse me?”

Again, before Barba can think better of it, he jerks his head to his left towards Rita Calhoun who, to Barba’s absolute dismay, is unable to hide a victorious smirk.

“Your Honor, it came to our attention that Mr. Dominick Carisi is receiving interview requests. Although the defense is not sure whether or not he’s profiting financially from it.”

Barba’s head spins around to find Carisi in the crowd behind him who immediately shakes his head and raises his two hands defensively.

Finally, after minutes watching the two lawyers talk to her with each other, Justice Hold lets out a sigh and takes off her tiny reading glasses: “Mr. Carisi, I won’t pretend you’re not here. So would you please tell us whether or not it’s true what Miss Calhoun is saying?”

“Your Honor.” In a heartbeat, Carisi has gotten up to his feet. Tensely, he clears his throat. “It’s true, I have received quite a handful of requests for interviews actually. But as instructed by Mr. Barba I have turned them all down.” Carisi nods towards Barba who sends him a withering look all the same. “Not that I’d want to make the trial topic of tabloid papers.”

“Were you offered to get paid for any of these interviews, Mr. Carisi?”

“Yes, Ma’am. But as I said, I turned them all down. I wouldn’t do that.”

Before Carisi can even finish the sentence, Justice Hold had her reading glasses back on her nose.

“Mr. Carisi, I advise you to do keep doing that in the future because I will dismiss Miss Calhoun’s motion. I don’t want any drama in my courtroom, I hope so much is understood by all parties.” She shoots an unreadable look over the rim of her glasses, directed at no one particularly. “Nevertheless, if I grant this gag order I might as well grant another one and shut up Mr. Barba, the press or any crime blogger, or god forbid the victim or maybe even you, Miss Calhoun. And I am not willing to do that to the Fifth Amendment.” Before anyone could react or comment, Justice Hold stands up: “Let’s have a break and continue with the prosecution’s first witness after lunch.”

Immediately the courtroom fills up with busy, but undirected mumblings.

The first voice that finds Barba’s ear belongs to Fin: “Hey counselor, what’s she tryin’ to pull with that stunt?”

The first hand that finds his shoulders belongs to Liv.

The first eyes that find his are Emilia Foley’s, wide open, pleading. Terrified that something has gone wrong, maybe even due to her own wrongdoing. Not that anything about this trial is in her control. Her eyes reveal the question that she doesn’t know how to ask: _What happened?_ She reminds Barba of a cornered animal.

It takes only a second for Barba to find back his lazy expression and his squared shoulders. “Miss Calhoun’s defense is swimming. This is why she's trying to confuse the jury with this motion, but no worries.” His own hand finds the upper arm of Miss Foley and he squeezes it with the amount of compassion that is expected of him. “We have a strong case, I won’t allow her to mess with the jurors’ heads. Okay?”

“Okay”, she repeats and nods, but Barba doesn’t believe her. Her dark eyes are framed with excessive black eyeliner, but there is no way to miss the glistening of a little tear.

Nonetheless, Barba leaves her in the caring hands of Lieutenant Benson and Sergeant Tutuola and with firm steps, he heads towards the doors of the courtroom, wondering again why the DA’s office does not have a PR person for disasters like this. He intends to spend the forty five minutes he has for this lunch break alone, with a large latte with two extra shots of espresso and one of those tooth rotting sweet pastries.

“Hey, counselor.”

 _Oh, him_. He is here, too. Barba really doesn’t feel like dealing with him.

“Mr. Carisi, your testimony isn’t until tomorrow, you didn’t need to come.”

“I know, I just…” Carisi takes a look over Barba’s shoulder back into the courtroom. “I was just curious. And I'm glad actually, wouldn’t wanna have missed this for the world.”

Barba only realizes now that Carisi is wearing a bespoke dark brown suit that looks suspiciously like Armani. _Oh god_ , Barba thinks, _him looking good is the last thing I need today_.

“Just do me a favor, Carisi, and keep your mouth shut about this case, okay?” Barba, suddenly wondering why he had stopped at all, moves on to keep walking towards the elevators. “In public, I mean.” Carisi, of course, follows him with big steps of his seemingly endless long limbs. “I don’t need to give Miss Calhoun any more reasons to file any stupid motions.”

“She didn’t get through with it though.”

A big crowd is waiting in front of the elevator which forces Barba to stop, giving up the illusion that he could somehow run away from the man.

“Yes, but she has planted the idea in the jury’s heads that Harvey is treated unfairly.”

Barba stands sideways to him, facing the elevator but their shoulders might be closer to each other than necessary. And when he realizes that Carisi is nodding understandingly, Barba feels like he had lost a set in a game by giving him an unsolicited legal insight.

“So while you could have easily used all these hashtags for your case, the defense's actually turning these tweets against you. I don’t wanna say I told you so, but…”

“Then don’t. She might as well be simply worried about her client’s right for a fair trial.”

Carisi had never answered the texts Barba had sent him after the one hundred red roses that are still standing on his desk.

“Am I not right, counselor?”

Even out of the corner of his eyes, Barba sees the dimples that so sweetly nestle into his cheeks. A sudden want to let his forehead drop onto his shoulders flashes through his body.

“Seldom.”

With a ping an elevator arrives, but it is already overfilled.

“Hey counselor…”

“What now?”

“I just wanted to say…”

Carisi buries his hands in his pocket and Barba tries not to look, but simply the knowledge about what his now tightened pants do to his crotch is enough to send a shiver down his spine.

“I just wanted to say that it was really impressive.”

The red numbers on the display next to the elevator indicate that it is stopping at every floor on its way down. Figuring that it might need a couple of minutes until he could hope to catch his ride, Barba pulls his phone out of his pocket. With pointed boredom he scrolls through his email account.

“I mean, your opening statement.”

Barba rolls his eyes. In one moment, he thinks this man might be blessed with some articulateness and in the next moment he formulates sentences without verbs.

Nevertheless, Barba decides to meet Carisi’s hero-worship with a cocked eyebrow and a lazy answer: “It was a short one”.

“I don’t mean what you said, even though that was very straightforward”, Carisi is quick to add. “I mean also how you said it, you know.”

Barba sends him a long look before deciding to not reward that attempt of a sentence with any response. Instead, he allocates his attention back to his phone. _This man is hopeless_.

“I mean, you're really impressive, Mr. Barba. The whole presentation of the opening statement was so on the spot.”

And Barba seriously presses answer on an email from Trevor Langan announcing that he now works in an office in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Everyone who knows him knows that Barba likes to have his back scratched with compliments. And accordingly, it takes every amount of his self-control to type out an answer.

In the back of his mind, Barba realizes that anyone who would observe this situation would realize the irony in Barba ignoring praise from the sexiest man walking on this earth in favor of congratulating Trevor Langan on his new job in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Wherever that is.

“The way you used your whole posture, I mean, unfortunately I could only see you from behind.”

Bewildered, Barba looks up from his phone when Carisi awkwardly clears his throat. Delightedly though, Barba notices that the dark flush from Carisi’s face spreads all over his neck and vanishes underneath the collar of his white dress shirt.

“But you also used your voice to create big and small moments. That was a very resounding effect you managed to reach there, counselor.” Gleefully, Barba realizes how Carisi’s accent turns this genuine accolade into something very sweet. “And you have a very nice voice, by the way.”

Carisi lets out a shy huff, leaving a sheepish smile around his plush lips. _Uh-oh_. This is dangerous, this is very, very dangerous. Because an oddly warm feeling in his stomach tells Barba that he finds all of _this_ very, very cute. All that Barba can do is to swallow hard, once, twice hoping to tame that thing in his stomach and ignore Carisi’s comment completely.

It’s all a farce of course because Barba would like nothing more than to snuggle up to the man’s neck and purr like a cat under the compliment.

* * *

“Thank you, Dr. Blasey.”

Trials are, unfortunately, as much about appearance as they are about facts. Not without reason, Barba invests the biggest part of his small public servant’s salary in well-fitted designer suits.

Even picking out expert witnesses is much more about appearance than actual expertise.

And as far as Barba finds, the forensic doctor he had picked to present the results of the rape kit had made a good impression. Dr. Blasey is a man of weakly stature close to retirement. The man had probably chosen his second best suit for court, an offensive brown tartan that still only seems to be half as old as the wedding ring that presses tenaciously into the flesh of his right ring finger.

During his whole testimony, Blasey had had his eyes that, so Barba assumes, must be hiding somewhere behind his thick glasses permanently fixed on the prosecutor, out of pure professionalism not sparing a single look to the jurors.

All in all, Barba is sure that Blasey had reminded each and single one of the jurors either of their former geography or history teacher, so a man of great knowledge but little experience of the world.

Despite spending the bigger part of his working life talking about it, by gap of gender, age and marital status Blasey has in fact no idea what vaginal trauma or forced penetration means for a woman. This is why Barba counts on that his stubborn focus on facts would make the jury simply find no reason to not believe him.

_So far so good._

In her newest conquest of black high heels, Rita stands a few inches taller than Barba and he is not ashamed to admit that this had been the main reason why he had abandoned any thought about fooling around with her in Harvard. Not because he didn’t like her being taller than him, in fact he has quite a soft spot for tall women, but because she needs the heels for that.

“Dr. Blasey, I have only one question for you.” Rita throws her hazelnut brown hair over her shoulder. “How come no DNA evidence of my client has been found?”

Rita still stands behind her desk. In her hand, she holds what must be a copy of the report of the rape kit.

“It is most likely that the rapist didn’t ejaculate.”

“Most likely? What do you mean by most likely?”

Barba observes his expert witness to wet his lips. He only knows Blasey superficially from prep sessions for this and a few other trials, but he does know him to hate stupid questions and just like Barba’s tenth grade English teacher, he has a habit of answering them with forced calmness. Which happens to be very useful routine when being interrogated by defense lawyers in court.

“Out of all the options this is what I assume to be the most likely.”

“All the options? Interesting.” The expression of feigned surprise on Rita’s face is overwhelmingly lame. Unlike her, Barba hadn’t spent his first salary after graduating on acting lessons but still he thinks he can pull off these faces better than her. “Would you mind telling us about the other options?”

“Well, first the rapist could have used a condom and second, he could have ejaculated elsewhere.”

“But the rape kit doesn’t say anything about traces of latex. Right?” With exaggerated confusion, Rita pretends to look over the report in her hand.

“Yes, but this doesn’t necessarily mean that no condom was used. No found traces of latex could be due to the fact that the rape kit was conducted about thirty six hours after the incident.”

“But there was also no condom found on the alleged crime scene?”

“Objection.” Barba sighs annoyed, not even bothering to get up. “Dr. Blasey didn’t investigate the crime scene. Miss Calhoun can keep these questions for Sergeant Tutuola later.”

“Sustained. Miss Calhoun, please precede. Stick to the witness’s field of expertise.” Justice Hold pointes lazily with her pen in her right hand to the witness stand next to her.

Rita Calhoun only answers with a small smile. She lies down the report and steps towards the witness stand.

“Dr. Blasey, you said the second option why there is no DNA evidence is because the alleged rapist might have ejaculated ‘elsewhere’. Now, the rape kit includes an examination of the whole body, right?”

“Yes, the victim’s whole body was searched for evidence, as were her clothes.”

“So?” Rita shows a flat palm. “How come there was no semen found ‘elsewhere’?”

Barba slightly shakes his head. Air quotes? _Seriously_?

Blasey looks past Rita Calhoun to shoot Barba a look, apparently sharing the same thought. Barba only hints a shoulder shrug. The judge had already warned Rita, so Barba decides to let her slitter onto the thin ice.

“All I can tell you, Miss Calhoun, is that we found no trace of DNA evidence. This could be due to the fact that Miss Foley had showered before allowing the rape kit.”

“No, no, no, Dr. Blasey, let’s go one step back again. If the alleged rapist would have ejaculated on her, you would have found evidence, right?”

“It’s never for sure.”

“Your Honor, the defense would like to draw the jury’s attention on exhibit 2b which is a report of the first time Lieutenant Benson interviewed Miss Foley, while still on the alleged crime scene.”

With a staccato of clicking steps, Rita walks back to her desk and pretends to search for a paper that is positioned right in front of her eyes.

“On page 2 it says and I quote.” Rita reads: “Crying bitterly Miss Foley said: ‘Did he finish off on my face?’”

Barba’s heartbeat peaks. He shoots up from his chair and is quick to interject: “Your Honor, Miss Foley has later recanted that statement. It’s not uncommon that victims get confused about what happened, especially so close to the incident.”

“Your Honor, why has Mr. Barba committed this initial statement to evidence then?”

“Your Honor, this initial statement shows that Miss Foley was clearly upset, so in case Miss Calhoun would try to claim that the sex was consensual, this proves that something had happened forcibly. The details of the rape only unveiled later.”

“Your Honor, this is ridiculous, first your victim claims to have sperm on her face but the rape kit doesn’t show any evidence…”

“Your Honor, she was very upset. As you can read in the report, she was crying all the time. Pressing a tissue in her face. In her confusion, she asked the _question…”_

Rita finally turns her head to talk to Barba directly: “So what? The jurors are supposed to believe the rape kit but not the report?”

The sound of a hammer clashing on wood interrupts them.

“Miss Calhoun, Mr. Barba, you _both_ should know better.” And while she looks at them like two wrangling children in the sandpit, Justice Hold lets the moment slide without anymore rebukes: “Miss Calhoun, do you have any more questions for the witness?”

“No, but the defense files motion to dismiss the rape kit as evidence.”

“Objection!”

“Easy, Mr. Barba”, Justice Hold interjects with her hand still on the hammer. “Although I agree with Miss Calhoun that the evidence that you are presenting is contradictory, I am dismissing the motion. It is up to the jury to validate which evidence is credible and which is not.”

Barba bites his lips, he feels blood boiling in his veins.

“Mr. Barba, I guess you don’t want to cross-examine the witness?”

“No.”

He doesn’t even need to look at Rita to know that she is not unhappy.

“Thank you, Dr. Blasey, you are dismissed.”

There is a white noise in Barba’s ears. Even a short look towards the jury tells him that he had lost that round. Rita had successfully managed to make the rape kit look dubious.

_Shit._

“Recess until tomorrow.”

* * *

Barba is the first one to open the doors of the courtroom.

On his way out, Barba had tried his best to avoid Carisi’s eyes. While the set-back would usually do nothing more or less than peak up the anxiety in his chest, the thought of the younger man’s piercingly blue eyes make his throat burn up in shame.

Barba is already half his way to the elevators when he hears the familiar voice calling for him.

“Hey counselor!”

Barba stops and turns around to see Carisi trying to find his way through the crowd, mumbling apologies to all the shoulders he is bumping. Carisi overlooks the crowd by a head.

“Hey”, Carisi says breathily when he had finally caught up with Barba.

“Don’t you have anything to do today? Why are you still here?”

“Detective Tutuola just told me that this was not good for us.”

“No shit.”

“But Miss Calhoun didn’t get through with the motion.”

“You don’t always need to get through with stuff to make an impression.”

“But the defense has no evidence that speaks in Harvey’s favor.”

“But the defense also makes it look like there is no evidence speaking against Harvey’s favor.”

“Mr. Barba, I hope you don’t mind me asking. Why did you put this initial statement into evidence then?”

“If I wouldn’t, she would have. Besides it would have looked like I have something to hide.” Barba tightens the grip around his briefcase, sighing under his breath.

“Mr. Barba, we _have_ to do something. We cannot just let him get away with it.”

“Thanks for reminding me, Mr. Carisi.”

“He raped those other girls, too, if you lose this case you also won’t get justice for them.”

“Yeah, not to mention that.”

“Look, counselor, Detective Tutuola said my testimony's even more important now. So, counselor, tell me. Is there anything I can do?”

Barba takes in a deep breath. The sooner he accepts that Carisi is the one destined to save the day the better. So he steps closer to him.

“Look, Mr. Carisi, it pains me to say this but you are right. I wish that Miss Calhoun would have never had the chance to rub that stupid statement under the jury’s nose…” Barba stands close enough to realize that Carisi’s breath hitches. “But it did happen.” Carisi’s cologne has a cinnamony edge that Barba finds too sweet for him. “And that makes your statement all the more important.” His voice is not much more than a whisper.

Barba loves how still Carisi stands, with this expression of awe in his face.

There in the hallways of the courthouse, they stand between busy people swarming around. Their faces are only a few inches apart and Barba could swear to feel Carisi’s hot breath on his face. Barba has his eyes locked with Carisi’s blue ones, this is how he realizes that they flip to his lips.

“Do you have a stylist, Mr. Carisi?”

Carisi blinks, taken aback. As if he had been torn out of a trance. His eyes shine in the most intense shade of blue that Barba had ever seen. A blue of purest beauty.

“Uh.” Carisi finally nods.

“Huh.” Barba feels almost disappointed because he had already started to fantasize about dressing him up.

“Are they any good?”

“Yeah.” Carisi clears his throat, clearly irritated by how close Barba is still standing. “Yeah, Caprizio is good.”

Not that _he_ is stepping away.

Barba furrows his brows in disbelief. He hopes very much that this Caprizio person is indeed a decent stylist and not just the family tailor from two blocks away where he grew up in Staten Island. Or worse, the guy who dresses up the Staten Island mob.

“Okay then”, Barba says reluctantly. “We have prepared you well actually. All you need to do is stick to the plan and not screw it up.”

“Uh, okay.”

Barba watches him swallow hard and he cannot help but find him somewhat adorable, if he would ever dare to use that word, being nervous.

“That uh… doesn’t make me feel pressured at all.”

“Good”, Barba comments. He lets his gaze wander over Carisi’s suit. Not that he could see much of it. The poor angle from how close they stand only allows him to let his eyes trail over his chest. _His chest._ “All we can do is make sure you make a good impression.”

“Well, luckily people love me.”

Barba sends him a withering look, but Carisi’s small smile tells him that the man does not quite believe it.

“Tell Caprizio to dress you up nice. A well-fitted suit, something that makes you look handsome but not too sexy.”

And Barba tries to both ignore the irresistible pink on Carisi’s cheeks as well as his own delight by it.

“So nothing too tight-fitted.”

Carisi ducks his head a little and Barba’s lips twitch suspiciously.

“And nothing blue, it stresses your eyes too much. You don’t want to seduce anyone.”

Carisi chokes on something that is not there and swallows hard.

Barba in turn feels compelled to look away. For lack of options he settles his gaze on the buttons of Carisi’s dress shirt.

“Let’s say a simple white shirt.”

Barba had lowered his voice.

“A three piece suit.”

Absentmindedly, he lets his index finger trail feather lightly over the brown collar of Carisi’s suit jacket.

“In gray maybe.”

His gaze is fixed on his own finger on Carisi.

“That still makes you look good, but not too much.”

In a sudden realization what he is doing, Barba claps with the back of his hand on Carisi’s chest.

“But I let you chose the color of the tie”, he says finally, looking Carisi in the eyes. “You're a TV lawyer after all, I trust you to know about how to present yourself.”

Carisi’s face has by now turned into a dark shade of red. He only indicates that he understands by nodding.

“Good”, Barba repeats. “Go through your answer tree again. Stick to what we discussed. If you have any questions, call me, okay?”

Carisi nods eagerly.

Finally, Barba takes a step back. Giving them both space to breathe. Not that they wanted to.

Barba had said everything. There is nothing left for him to do other than turn around and leave. But these simple movements suddenly seem hard to accomplish.

“And don’t forget that charming smile of yours”, Barba says instead of a goodbye and he cannot help his own smile sneaking up onto his lips. Before he turns around, he adds: “It works on anyone.”

“Whatever you want from me, counselor”, Carisi answers behind him.

Barba is happy that he had his back already turned to him because he needs to send a quick look skywards.

Hearing a sentence like this from a man as handsome as this, understandably this makes him weak. And Carisi is very handsome. But many men are and Barba doesn’t want to accept that he is continuously losing all sense of self-control around this particular one.

“And Mr. Carisi!” Barba turns around one more time only to find bright blue eyes still pierced on him. “Go easy on the hair gel, will you?”

Barba smiles in delight of the dumbfound look that he had made appear in Carisi’s face.

But then he finally flees.

He is happy to catch an elevator right away. When the doors shut close in front of him, he closes his eyes. _Oh my god_. All he wants to do is to bump his head back against the wall. _He smells amazing!_ But of course he is squeezed between fifteen people in a shoebox.

As soon as the doors of the elevator reopen, Barba makes his way out across the hall to the exit as fast as he can.

Outside, he finally breathes.

Of course, New York air in late winter is no better than its air at any other time of the year and Barba would have wished for something fresher than dust combined with exhausts, but he takes whatever he can get. At least the air is cold and that does as much to clear his mind as any.

Barba decides to take a detour around the nearby park, simply to walk.

For an incredible amount of twenty five minutes, Barba just vanishes inside of the stream of the anonymous crowd of the big city. Like ants people crawl around him, everyone has a goal, something to do. No one notices him and he happily notices no one.

When he arrives at 1 Hogan Place, Barba feels like he has regained a fair amount of control over his thoughts.

“Didn’t go well, did it?”, Carmen asks with a sympathetic smile.

“That’s an understatement.”

Entering his office, he immediately loosens his tie and opens the first buttons of his dress shirt. He takes his phone out of his pocket and checks his messages while he walks towards his desk.

He stops short halfway through taking his jacket off.

He had been tagged in another tweet.

With a thrumming heart he opens the app. And just as he had feared, he sees another picture of him and Carisi. It’s again a rather pixelated snapshot of them standing in front of each other in the hallways of the courthouse.

_@InNewYorkCity says:_

_First day of court went badly for the prosecution, but it seems like Team #Barisi has something up their sleeves. I’m so happy to see them work together so closely. We will get justice! #MeTooDebate_

They stand too close to each other, really too close. Nobody could argue with that. Carisi has his head ducked down a little as if he is listening closely to something Barba is explaining. And Barba has one hand on the man’s chest and is, even though the low quality leaves doubts, looking at Carisi’s lips.

“What the fuck”, Barba murmurs.

His head shoots up when Carmen who unnoticed by him had just walked into his office with a stack of papers in her hand answers him.

“Yeah, you will never get rid of that hashtag, Mr. Barba.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't that what we all want to do, just watch Barba being Barba?
> 
> First and foremost, your comments are all so unbelievably amazing! How do I deserve this? Thank you all so, so much, you guys do not know what this means to me!!!
> 
>   
> This is the inspiration for Sonny in the first part of the chapter.
> 
> Look, I learned English from watching American detective shows, but I have no clue about American law, so my beta is probably right and Sonny as a witness is not allowed to sit in, but I learned that only later and unfortunately that's crucial for the story. So let's just go with it.
> 
> What's gonna happen in the next chapter? Sonny will testify, furthermore the trial will end so after that there won't be any conflict of interest anymore.
> 
> Don't forget to be kind to one another and to kudos and comment!


	6. Valuable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the trial

The next morning, the disaster seems even bigger than before.

On his way to work, Barba had received a call from Jack McCoy.

“How come there is another picture of you?”

_How come you don’t have a PR department?_

“Yes, I also don’t know. There seems to be this crime blogger who likes to secretly take pictures.” _Like a fucking paparazzi._

“Look, Barba, just don’t do anything about it. I mean there's nothing there, so we won’t make it a thing.”

“Right.”

“But if someone from the press asks, just tell them you worked closely with Mr. Carisi and he was a big help and all. People love that sunny boy, he might as well give us some good publicity.”

“Sure.”

Afterwards Barba couldn’t even tell what mood his boss had been in. Had he been angry? Annoyed? Or worse indifferent?

Barba on the other hand knows exactly what he feels: dread. Dread over the fact that Barba would have slept with that man about three minutes after he had met him had brought him into this position now. His _boss_ calls him, people _talk_ about it. And that is just out in the open. What are people saying behind his back? His colleagues, his enemies? Or worse, what if his mother sees this?

Barba goes straight to court. The second day of court begins first thing in the morning, there is no need to stop by his office beforehand.

Barba holds his chin high while he walks through the hallways of the courthouse.

He doesn’t know what he had expected but he doesn’t catch anyone looking at him. Nevertheless, he feels like his neck is burning up under the stares of people who had seen him on this picture. That anyone has seen him like this at all. Crushing on a celebrity like a teenage girl.

He is not the first to arrive in court. In fact, everyone is already there. Rita Calhoun only turns to him shortly mumbling a “Good morning, Rafael” and then turns back to exchange whispers with her scumbag of a client. His detectives concentrate much more time on that than mentioning the new tweet or on an actual greeting.

_Rollins, scrunching her nose, says: “Calhoun not blowing any dust, what about that?”_

_Amaro asks: “That’s good, right, counselor?”_

_Benson comments in a surprised voice: “Well, that’s certainly a first.”_

_“She ain’t got shit”, Fin says crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Now just wait for my testimony, counselor, I’m gonna blow their minds away.”_

Barba feels too tongue tied to reply to any of this. Are they doing this on purpose? Usually they are not like this. They would say something. If there would be something to say, they would.

The only thing that is helping Barba’s trepidation is that Carisi’s witness testimony is the first thing on the agenda. So the worst part would be over quickly.

Carisi simply looks, just as Barba had requested, gorgeous. He wears a rather stylish, obviously custom-tailored gray three-piece suit, modern and classic at the same time.

Carisi had chosen a light red for the tie.

Barba should not _feel_ like this for a man who is a substantial witness.

He is not doing his job right.

A rapist could walk if he screws this up.

But SVU and, not that Barba would forward this information to anyone, Carmen are keeping an eye on the juror’s social media. As nobody has said anything to him, he guesses that no one has gotten wind of that picture yet. Or maybe no one cares. That is good, he needs to concentrate on that. _Nothing has happened yet._

And as Rita Calhoun had twisted the physical evidence of the rape kit into a baffling mess of terms and phrases, Carisi’s testimony is beyond important.

They had gone through the statement more than thoroughly. And Carisi is an actor, a good one, he knows how to present himself. Even more so, Carisi is a genuinely kind man. He has a good heart and all he wants is to help. Out of the goodness of his heart. And lucky for Barba, Carisi is wearing that big, stupid heart on his sleeve. So all Barba needs to do is to show that to the jury.

Barba gets up and has his eyes fixed on Carisi sitting in the witness stand with tensed shoulders, looking at him expectantly. And inexplicably Barba, for the very first time in his life, feels intimidated by a man’s handsomeness.

Barba takes a moment to suppress his fear. Furtively, he breathes deeply. _Nobody has seen that picture. And even if they have, they seem to not see._

It is just a split second and if Barba wouldn’t have watched him so closely, he would have missed it. But Barba sees gentle dimples forming on Carisi’s cheeks.

Barba feels his heart beating faster, the blood rushes through his veins and brings along the thrill.

So Barba starts asking his questions. He takes his time. The longer Carisi is on the witness stand the better. Not that he thinks that Carisi needs much time to win the juror’s hearts.

And Carisi does well, more than well. He answers just as they had practised. On the point, he gives details about what he had seen and even shows a generous amount of empathy. He shifts in his chair uncomfortably. “Mr. Harvey was standing. He, uh, was just pulling his pants back up.” Carisi lowers his gaze. “And Emilia was lying on the little couch. With her skirt up.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, her panties were around her ankles.” He scratches his blushed cheeks. “She was hiding her face behind a tissue.”

“What did you do, Mr. Carisi, when you walked in on the scene?”

“I was just shocked. First I couldn’t move. Then I just went to Emilia, tried to help her. Asked her if she needs anything. I didn’t notice Mr. Harvey leaving. I was so shocked. By what I saw. It was terrible.”

Barba nods understandingly and is already about to end his questioning when Carisi starts talking again.

“I’m so sorry what happened.” They hadn’t practised that. “I just wish I would have come in there earlier. I could have stopped it maybe. I’m so sorry, Emilia.”

Barba doesn’t need to look to know that all twelve people on the jury turn their heads to get a glimpse of the victim. As he has his back turned to her, Barba doesn’t know about her reaction, but he imagines Emilia Foley with tears in her big black eyes, crumbling a tissue between her two hands in front of her chest.

As far as the trial goes, this moment is gold.

And Barba adds to it: “Thank you, Mr. Carisi, but it’s not _your_ fault.”

So Barba decides to let this moment stand.

Without another word, he turns around, determined to walk back to his desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rita scribbling down a few notes.

This is when Barba has an epiphany.

“Mr. Carisi”, Barba says, turning around again. “I’ve been hearing…” They hadn’t practised this either, but for some reason Barba instinctively trusts these bright, calm blue eyes. “That you’ve been asked to give interviews about this case?”

As expected Carisi looks slightly confused, but Barba doesn’t think that anyone else but him notices. “Yes, but I didn’t accept any of them.”

“Were you offered money?”

“Yes, but I don’t need that.”

“Why do you refuse to do interviews about the case? As far as I see you are also silent about it on social media.”

“I wouldn’t wanna take advantage of this tragedy. I cannot imagine how hard this must all be for Emilia, I respect her feelings. It’s her choice how to handle the matter, not mine.”

 _Yes._ Barba sets his jaw, because he cannot allow himself the appreciative smile that threatens to creep into his face. _Perfect._

“Couldn’t you get a lot of publicity out of it, though?”

“I neither want nor need that”, Carisi answers quickly and confidently. He raises his brows in a challenging manner while his lips form an angry pout.

“Also, Mr. Carisi, I have to ask you this. Are you seeing anyone right now?”

Behind him, Barba hears a chair scratching over the parquet.

“Objection! Relevance?”

“Your Honor, I’m very sure Miss Calhoun was going to ask my witness the very same question.”

“I hope you’re going somewhere with this fast, Mr. Barba. Overruled.”

Carisi looks back and forth between the judge and Barba for several times, before he finally answers.

“No.”

“So I understand that you are not seeing Miss Foley?”

“No.”

“And were you ever involved with her?”

_“No.”_

“I am just asking this because if she was your ex-girlfriend, she could be making that story up to cover up cheating on you.”

He hears the audience behind him mumbling indignantly.

Carisi smooths the front of his suit, on his face the same indignant smile.

“No, Mr. Barba, she has no need to make me believe anything. And before you say anything, I also don’t think she’s making this story up for publicity. She was very upset, crying bitterly. I saw the bruises on her wrist, on her… thighs.” Carisi swallows hard. “There's no way that she wanted that.”

Barba gives him a slow nod.

“Thank you, Mr. Carisi.”

And he knows that a ghost of a fond smile appears around his lips.

“No further questions.”

Before he moves away, Barba notices Carisi squaring his shoulders, basically preening himself under the praise.

For a moment, Barba feels so euphoric that he forgets that this is the moment where it could all blow up.

Barba’s stomach churns. There is an iron taste on his tongue and he genuinely fears throwing up right there in open court. Suddenly a weight pushes on his chest and Barba needs to lower his gaze in order to concentrate on his breathing. A panic attack isn’t any better.

Now it is Rita Calhoun’s turn. Barba had efficiently stolen her thunder by anticipating her questions. But she could easily pull out that picture. _Aren’t you just saying this all to get into Barba’s pants?_

But it doesn’t happen.

The silence makes Barba suspicious, so he looks to his left where he finds Rita chewing on her lip.

“Miss Calhoun, your witness.”

Barba feels the weight slowly lifting.

 _Maybe she is so hot for the closeted homosexual that she cannot picture him not straight_ , Barba thinks triumphantly.

“Mr. Carisi, I have only one question for you.”

Together with his heartbeat his breathing evens out.

“Did you see what happened in that changing room?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Barba bites his lips. She doesn’t like that. Being called Madam like an old spinster. _As if he knew._

“So you cannot know if the sex was consensual or not?”

“No, but I-”

“No more questions, Your Honor.”

“-I know what I saw _afterwards._ She was devastated and all Harvey did was pull up his pants and walk out.”

Carisi’s face is tinted in red, but this time from pure anger. He has his lips pressed together, in pure disgust.

And Barba closes his eyes to thank god for this man.

* * *

“Hey counselor!”

“You need to come up with a new line.”

Carisi is taken aback for a moment, but he smiles. “Okay, maybe I will.”

Barba winces.

“Was it alright, what I said? I mean we didn’t practise that last part, I was not sure…”

“You did alright.”

“Really? ’Cause I think what you did there with…” The accent, his hand gesturing in front of him, Barba finds it all too cute to listen.

“You did very good, Mr. Carisi. I think we have convinced the jury already. So as long as Miss Calhoun doesn’t pull any stunts, we got this.”

And Carisi beams. He _beams_ so brightly that Barba nearly forgets about the dread he had just felt hours ago.

* * *

By the end of the next week, the jury returns with a guilty verdict.

The remaining court days had gone by quickly with Fin’s more than short summary of the investigation, Kevin Harvey’s testimony, Rita’s unnecessary character witnesses and most of all no embarrassing hashtags.

The jury had merely deliberated for a day.

Carisi is there when the jury reads the verdict, but while Barba joins the cheers of the detectives and the relief of the victim, he avoids him. Without thanking Carisi, he heads back to his office as quickly as possible.

He needs a Scotch in silence.

Carisi’s consistency ruins his plans because only ten minutes after he had arrived, the actor knocks on his door.

_Not again._

“Mr. Barba.”

Carisi smiles, but the smile has a rather nervous touch that Barba cannot quite grasp.

“I just wanted to congratulate you.”

“Thank you”, Barba says dryly.

He looks up to Carisi and sighs. _Might as well get it over with_ , he thinks.

“But I also need to thank you. You and your waisted suit did most of the convincing.”

Carisi chuckles giddily at that. “Nah”, he comments with a dismissive hand gesture. “I think you were awesome.”

Barba doesn’t answer. The compliment is simply heartwarming, Barba can’t deny. It’s like the promise for that sweet piece of dessert that you can’t have.

“So.” Carisi takes in a deep breath.

All Barba wants is stand close to him again, so close that he could smell his scent again.

“Mr. Barba.” He claps the palms of his hands together.

So close that he could feel the heat of his body.

“I was wondering.”

But Barba had spent the last two weeks telling himself how dangerous these desires are. Two ridiculed snapshots and a terrible portmanteau had already done more damage to his pride and reputation than he is willing to accept.

“Now that the trial is over.” Carisi eyes Barba cautiously. “Uh, we maybe could get coffee together sometime.”

Barba is ripped out of his thoughts with a sudden hitch.

His eyes shoot up to Carisi in surprise.

He hadn’t expected this at all.

For a moment, Barba feels speechless. All Barba can hear is his own heartbeat in his ears. He looks at Carisi with big eyes, repeating the words over and over in his head. But the words don’t change. No matter how he turns them, there is no doubt about what Carisi had meant.

“Mr. Carisi.”

And the words on his tongue taste bittersweet.

“I'm flattered.”

Barba feels a sting somewhere between his fifth and sixth rib when he sees the hurt so openly in Carisi’s face.

“I really am.”

Barba takes a deep breath, hoping that it would slow down his thrumming heartbeat. But when he speaks, he hears his own voice shaking.

“But _no.”_

“Huh.”

“Look, don’t get me wrong. But I have already endangered my work enough as it is.”

“But the trial is over”, Carisi protests.

“Yes, but these tweets… I don’t want this.”

Carisi raises a brow and studies Barba for a long moment. Barba guesses that giving him an explanation, whether it is a lie or not, is the least Carisi deserves. It doesn’t change that Carisi beautiful smile has broken on his lips.

“Okay.”

Carisi leaves Barba’s office a few minutes later.

Barba leans back in his chair and rubs a hand over his face. He is happy that nobody could see him now. Only a bitter man like him would reject such a kind, sweet and beautiful man.

He feels a headache forming behind his forehead. He senses that it is going to be a bad one.

Barba only knows one way to cure his headaches, so he decides to have a drink of that bottle of whiskey that Carisi had given him as a gift. That is what it had meant to be after all, a reward for when he wins. Plus, Barba wants it to be gone rather sooner than later.

Barba pours himself a generous amount and takes an even more generous mouthful. The whiskey tastes smooth. Much less peated than Barba usually prefers, but very harmonious.

 _Not bad_.

Barba puts his feet on his desk and studies the bottle. Maybe this is where it had all begun, the inappropriateness. An innocent gift that he shouldn’t have accepted. But nobody had noticed anything. There is nothing suspicious about something that is right under your nose.

That’s when Barba sees the signature.

 _For my favorite lawyer_. The line is barely readable, apparently hurriedly scribbled on the back of the bottle with a marker. _From Bob Dylan to Sonny Carisi_.

* * *

[ _Miss Calhoun invites you for a no-hard-feelings-dinner. Cab awaits you at 7.30_ ]

Barba laughs. He is still in his bathroom, the mirror steamy from the long hot shower he had granted himself when he had come home from work.

They hadn’t done that in years, but sure why not? He still doesn’t turn down free meals in decent restaurants. And Rita has a habit of drinking too much too fast. Exactly what he needs today.

As it is already seven o’clock, Barba goes straight to getting himself ready.

For Rita he decides on a colorless combination of black pants and a black blazer with a simple white shirt. White pocket square, no tie. First two buttons open.

She doesn’t deserve to see him too handsome.

The cab is already waiting for him when he steps out of his apartment building.

“Mr. Barba?” The driver greets him when Barba slips on the backseat.

“Yes, that’s me.”

Barba immediately takes his phone out of his pocket and starts answering emails. “Where are we going?”

“Some fancy seafood place in Lower Manhattan.”

Barba only hums in response, his mind already fully concentrated on his phone.

After twenty minutes, the cab stops in a rather dark backstreet not far from the shore of Hudson River. Barba reaches for his wallet, but the driver stops him.

“It’s been taken care of.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I guess.”

“Have fun.”

“Thanks.”

When Barba steps out of the taxi, he stops short. He looks around. When he turns to ask the driver if he had brought him to the wrong place, the cab is already gone.

Barba stands in front of a restaurant.

But there are no people in it.

Even more so, it is dark except for a few dim lights.

It is obviously closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carisi, Barba's hero *sighs*
> 
> Trivia: There is a German TV judge named Alexander Hold and of course I am the biggest Captain Holt fan, so this was the inspiration for the judge.
> 
> What happens in the next chapter? You guys tell me, what do you think? (The ones who know, shut up please)
> 
> Thank you all for reading, don't forgot to give kudos and comment. You guys are the best!


	7. Discretion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two firsts

The first thing Barba does in his confusion is to check his phone. No, there are no messages or calls from Rita that he had missed. Carmen also hadn’t forwarded him any information about where he is going to meet with Rita.

He looks around again only to confirm what he had already gathered. The flat building in front of which the cab had stopped is the only restaurant around. So this must be the right place except that the restaurant is very obviously closed.

Before he decides to call Rita (or Carmen), Barba thinks he might as well have a closer look at the place. So he approaches the building.

To his surprise, the entrance door opens when he is still a few feet away.

“Mr. Barba, come in. We were waiting for you.”

Barba is too startled to reply. His first instinct is to stop short and ask what is going on, but as always his interest wins and he steps inside.

As it turns out the voice had belonged to a stocky, small man with slick black hair who now helps him out of his coat. The man wears an all-black combination of classic fit dress pants, shirt and vest. He is probably in his mid-thirties, has olive colored skin and a thin mustache above his upper lip.

While Barba would normally dismiss this kind of mustache as disgusting, he must admit that this man is able to pull it off.

“Good evening”, the man greets him with a warm voice. His mouth displays a serene smile and his nearly black eyes sparkle at him friendlily.

“Uh. Good evening.”

“Mr. Barba, my name is Ahmir. I will take care of you this evening. Please walk on.” The man shows with a flat hand towards the main room of the restaurant. “I’ll be right with you.”

And then Ahmir is suddenly gone and his coat with him which leaves Barba behind, standing puzzled in the entrance area.

Barba, now burning with curiosity, walks with slow steps into the main room.

The restaurant is not very big, there are maybe twenty tables scattered over a gray pile floor. The décor is very classic, yet minimalistic and modern. The walls are painted in a lighter shade of gray. There are no pictures on the wall, only black boards in heavy wooden frames that usually, as Barba assumes, announce specials or wine recommendations but today they are blank. The dominating colors besides the gray are black and white, black cushioning and white tablecloths. The wooden furniture and round shapes give the place a cozy feeling nevertheless.

A few floor lamps set the restaurant in a dim, warm light. None of the tables are laid, except one in the middle of the restaurant. Simple silverware, shiny wine glasses. This happens to be also the only table lit with candles.

In front of this table rather shyly with his hands in his pockets, looking to him with gleaming eyes and a bashful smile, stands Carisi.

He looks exceptionally good.

He is wearing dark blue dress pants, a light blue shirt and a very tight-fitted vest. Everything about him makes his good features pop. The amazingly blue eyes, the tall figure, the long legs. Not even his sheepish expression can hide how beautiful he is.

But what Barba loves the most is that Carisi is very obviously _nervous._

“Hi”, Carisi huffs, taking a few cautious steps towards him.

“Hi.” Barba feels himself unwillingly smirking.

“I hope you are not mad at Carmen for helping me trick you into _this.”_ Carisi stretches out his hands, gesturing into the empty restaurant.

“I would fire her if she wasn’t the best assistant that I ever had.”

“She seems to know you well, I can definitely say that.” Carisi smiles apologetically and awkwardly puts his hands back into his pocket.

“I think it is rather you I should be mad at for tricking me into whatever _this_ is.” Barba copies Carisi’s motion from before, gesturing into the empty restaurant.

But there is no bite in his voice. Indeed, all the worries he had had during the weeks of the trial, in light of bright blue eyes Barba cannot even remember what they had been about.

And Carisi must have suddenly forgotten his unease, because the mischievous grin is back on the younger man’s face.

“Either a celebration of the guilty verdict or a date.” Carisi’s eyes sparkle confidently when he adds: “It’s up to you.”

Barba bites his lip. Of course he had made up his mind already. He had made up his mind the moment he had noticed Carisi’s hands trembling slightly from being nervous.

“Let’s see.”

Barba walks past Carisi to their table and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Carisi’s baffled expression.

“Have a seat then”, Carisi offers with an amused voice.

“Thank you.”

They sit down opposite each other, but before Barba can open his mouth to say something, Ahmir appears to their side.

“Hi there. Have you decided whether or not we’re celebrating tonight or what can I get you as an aperitif?”

Barba blinks, rather irritated. He looks from Ahmir to Carisi who both look at him expectantly. None of their faces give Barba any clue.

“He means champagne or not.”

Barba catches himself quick enough to not pout. Of course, he knows that champagne is a classic aperitif as well as the go-to drink if you have something to celebrate. His question is rather why this man, who is the waiter apparently, knows that they might have something to celebrate.

And then again, what _are_ they celebrating?

Barba narrows his eyes to send Carisi a withering look all the same. Carisi mirrors the expression by narrowing his eyes along.

“Locked up or not, we’re not drinking on a rapist.”

Ahmir and Carisi both raise their eyebrows.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Just bring us the usual then, will you?”

With one last look at Barba, Ahmir nods and walks away.

“You don’t celebrate after you win a trial?”

“We do, but getting drunk in a sleazy cop bar just constitutes basic requirements for celebrating.”

“You can also get drunk in fancy seafood restaurants.”

Barba needs to laugh at that. “It’s just the appropriate amount of miserable is what I meant to say.”

“Got it, no champagne for rapists.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s kind of macabre anyway to celebrate that a person is gonna rot in a hole for more than two decades.”

“Is that the Catholic in you trying to sympathize with the rapist?”

“First _empathize._ Not sympathize. There is absolutely no sympathy that I have for this… person.” Carisi rubs a hand over his face and curses something under his breath that in Barba’s ears sounds suspiciously like “scumbag”. “But yeah, I think it's a good thing to empathize. I mean, if we don’t, then we're no better than that… person, right?”

Barba tilts his head. Carisi suddenly looks tired around the eyes. This is the first time that Barba considers Carisi in all this. Talking about his colleague getting raped in open court, it must have not been easy for him.

“I see what you mean, but Harvey doesn’t deserve it.”

“Hey.” Carisi raises two hands. “I absolutely agree with you here, counselor. Harvey needed to get off the streets, he would have never stopped.”

Before Barba can reply, Ahmir shows up again. On a tray, he carries two drinks. He gives a bubbly looking orange drink with foam on top to Carisi and puts a Martini glass in front of Barba.

“I didn’t figure you for the sweet type”, Ahmir comments. With his back half turned to Carisi, Ahmir gives him a friendly wink.

With a short look towards Carisi Barba raises a brow.

Ahmir smirks amused.

“It’s my special”, he says pointing with his head to the Martini in Barba’s hand and before he leaves them alone again, he adds: “I’ll get the starters ready.”

Carisi raises his glass. “To good work then.”

“To good work”, Barba mumbles when he clicks glasses with Carisi.

They both watch each other over the rim of their glasses when they take a sip of their drinks. And Barba’s heart skips a beat because he notices again how impossibly blue Carisi’s eyes are.

Putting his glass down, Barba licks his lips. The Martini really tastes exceptionally good, it has a very fruity note, something that Barba usually doesn’t like. The drink tastes far away from sweet though, but indeed has a very rich flavor.

It seems like that Ahmir, the waiter is also the bartender. And actually, now that Barba thinks of it, he hasn’t noticed anyone else in the restaurant so far.

“So Rita doesn’t know about this?” Barba gestures with a flat hand over the table.

“Who’s Rita?”

“Rita Calhoun.”

“The defense attorney?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would she know about this?” Carisi mirrors Barba’s gesture.

“Because Carmen said I would meet with her for dinner.”

“Oh, that must have been Carmen’s ruse. I didn’t know about that.”

“Ah. Okay. Got it.”

“Wait, why would you meet for dinner with the defense attorney?”

“I know her from Harvard. We’re kind of friends.”

“Like frenemies?”

“I have a great aversion against portmanteaus.”

“C'mon, you got all weird before going with me to lunch during the trial, but you’re dining with the defense attorney? How is that not a conflict of interest?”

“The point is, she doesn’t know, right?”

“No.” Carisi had lowered his gaze to stare into his Bellini. He turns the glass around between his fingers. “Why? Would that be a problem?”

“No, it’s just… She’s kind of a bitch about everything. She would never stop bugging me about this.” Barba gestures with his flat hand over the table again.

“This date?”

“Nice try.”

“Would it be a problem if she knew though? For the case I mean.”

“No, not really. I mean she cannot prove that there was something going on during the trial. Justice Hold would never overturn a verdict because of _this.”_

“Okay, good.”

Barba senses that something in Carisi’s expression had shifted but he couldn’t quite read it, a light worry line had appeared on his forehead.

This is why Barba asks: “Are you going to give interviews now that the trial is over?”

“Uh, I don’t know actually. I mean, I wanna encourage victims to come forward and this trial is a good example that it’s worth it, right? But on the other hand, I have to admit that I really don’t want to talk about this again. Like ever.”

Barba considers Carisi for a long moment. There had been a lot of pressure on him during the trial and Barba with the help of Fin had made sure to let him feel that. And honestly, most witnesses do not understand the pressure they should feel. They do not get what an impact a wrong answer or a grimy suit can have on the outcome or how much impact they actually have on the outcome, the outcome being whether or not a criminal gets convicted. But Carisi had internalized his role in the trial before Barba had even had the chance to explain it to him.

“How… uh, how are you doing with this?”

Carisi looks at him surprised.

“I’m good. We got him, right? He’s locked up. I'm really relieved. ‘Cause for a moment there I was really afraid that I would fuck this up.”

Barba smiles at the good Catholic boy using the f-word and to his absolute delight, Carisi blushes. “Sorry”, he mumbles sheepishly. Barba only shakes his head amused.

“I mean it surely wasn’t easy for you to talk about all of this in court.”

“Yeah, it was not _‘easy’.”_

Barba doesn’t want to defer to the sarcasm in Carisi’s voice. He knows he had pushed the man out of his comfort zone, but considering they had had to get a rapist off the streets, this was what he had to do. And quite frankly, he doesn’t feel sorry a bit.

And Carisi also shouldn’t.

“None of this is easy of course, but we ultimately did good. That’s what you should remember about all of this.”

“Look.” Carisi shifts his weight so that he leans forward on the table. “You’ve been pretty hard on me, but, besides getting him convicted, I have learned a lot from working with you.” He smiles at Barba, an open and pure smile. “I wouldn’t want to have missed that for the world.”

For a moment, Barba is caught up in the warm look in Carisi’s eyes. His gaze slips to the man’s lips. His silly heart is beating a little faster, but Barba catches himself quick enough to not blush.

“Well, Mr. Carisi, I have to admit that you saved my ass back there. You really brought the jury to our side. So thank you.”

Carisi beams like a puppy who had just received a treat.

“Counselor, I feel like you don’t wanna hear me saying that, but I think you were really amazing.”

It is impossible to not feel the figurative butterflies fluttering around in his stomach when this handsome man looks at him with heart eyes and pure admiration. It doesn’t even matter that in his opinion Carisi has no idea about how to prosecute a case and therefore his compliment is technically useless, but Barba decides to not care. The bright blue eyes, the sweet smile, everything is all in all too flattering to not accept.

“Just did my job.”

“I mean it. Really. I mean, you didn’t really have much evidence to go with…” _Thank you_. Barba wishes Liv could be around to hear this. “…but you totally had the jury in your hands. And you crushed that bitch of a defense attorney by the way.”

Barba smirks. _Poor Rita_ , but Carisi is right.

Carisi stops short. “Wait, I don’t have to call you by your last name anymore, right?”

Barba bites back a smile. _Isn’t he sweet being so polite?_

Barba decides in that moment to simply not kid himself. Any game that he might have considered about playing coy or hard to get, Barba won’t play it. Because, truth be told, it had never been on the table.

“No objection.”

“Okay.” Carisi’s face lights up so quickly and intensively that Barba feels a sudden jolt of joy in his heart. “But call me Sonny then.”

Barba winces.

“Come on, Mr. Barba. I mean, Rafael.”

“It is a child’s name.”

“Dominick is my father. That’s just weird if you'd call me that.”

“It doesn’t make me feel better about our age difference.”

For a moment Carisi seems taken aback, a short pinch of worry flashes over his face. “How old are you?”

Before his surprise that Carisi doesn’t know, comes Barba’s reflex to lie. Admittedly, he had never been with someone that much younger, but making himself a few years younger in situations like these seems like the thing that Barba would do considering the short longevity of his usual encounters.

“Forty three”, Barba answers truthfully.

“That’s not so much.”

Barba nods, but nevertheless feels somewhat uncomfortable. In no way does he feel like discussing whether or not their age difference does something for either one of them.

As if Ahmir had sensed that the conversation had taken an unpleasant turn, he reappears with several plates of food. He even lingers and explains the different dishes. From his explanations Barba gathers that Ahmir had prepared all the dishes himself which consequently probably means that other than the three of them nobody is around in the restaurant.

Ahmir has a very engaging way to talk about his food. His eyes sparkle passionately as he explains what spices he had added when and he doesn’t mind when both Barba and Carisi start laughing about how adorably detailed he can ramble on about his food.

“Now finish your drinks, I’m gonna bring the wine.”

Barba doesn’t need to be told twice and pours the rest of his drink down in one go so that he can hand Ahmir the empty glass before he goes back to the kitchen.

“It was really good.”

“I knew you would like it.” Ahmir shows a tooth gap when he smiles.

So Barba and Carisi pounce on the starters. Everything tastes delicious and for a while, they just eat and talk with amusement about Ahmir’s explanations of the dishes.

“This is a great place”, Barba comments with a mouthful of scallop.

“Thank you”, Carisi says between bites. “This restaurant is actually the dream of a Staten Island boy.”

Barba looks to Carisi surprised.

“Not mine”, Carisi answers. He points with his head to the kitchen. “I just provided the money for it.”

“So you’re the owner?”

“Technically yes, but I really don’t do anything." Carisi laughs cordially and Barba cannot help but smile along. “Except eat obviously.”

“Well, it is handy to have your own private restaurant”, Barba teases.

“No, I actually never…” Carisi clears his throat, suddenly blushing and avoiding eye contact. “I never did this before, but yeah”, Carisi adds quickly. “I mean, we're friends. So you don’t need to worry, Ahmir will be discreet.”

Barba nods. That is comforting to know actually, because Barba still feels terrified by the idea of being objectified in tabloid papers as some horny, old man who crushes on a cute actor like a teenage girl. Not just because that would be totally embarrassing for the work he does, but also for him personally, as tiny as his personal life may be, that would constitute serious damage to his pride.

“The whiskey is really good by the way.”

“You opened it after the trial?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“You know it’s autographed to you, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I mean I don’t drink whiskey, it'd be a shame if the bottle was destined to gather dust on my shelf.”

“I mean, if you want the bottle back after it’s finished.”

“Rafael, a gift is a gift. Somehow you're very hesitant to accept them.”

Barba sets his jaw. He should be ashamed that he rather feels worry over unprofessionalism than actual reluctance over accepting Carisi’s gifts, but quite frankly Barba thinks he deserves to be wooed.

The conversation is pleasant, Ahmir amusing and the food sinfully delicious. Barba knows that his cheeks had turned rosy but he is not sure whether the sweet white wine or the man opposite him is the reason. Secretly, Barba curses Carisi for smiling so gorgeously all the time. Because the smile paired with the wine slowly make his mind dizzy.

And Barba happens to simply not believe his (maybe dumb) luck that he is here on a date with Sonny Carisi.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking so directly”, Barba asks over dessert and Carisi nods encouragingly. “But… Are you gay?”

For a moment, Carisi stops short. A spoonful of lemon sorbet stays in his mouth too long. He lifts a corner of his mouth nevertheless.

“Uh, I have experiences with both sexes and I happen to like both.”

Barba considers him for a long moment. Carisi looks back at him openly and Barba is relieved to find that Carisi is much surer about his sexuality than his circumlocution might suggest. But why the roundaboutness then?

“But you’re not out?”

“I’m out to my family, these are the only people that matter.”

“It’s not good for female fans if you're not straight I guess.”

“You’d be surprised.” Carisi scratches with his spoon over his plate even though it is obviously empty already. “But that’s not it.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s just… if I'm out, everything, every role I play, every interview will always be about this. And I just don’t want that.”

“You engage in so many good causes, but you don’t want to advocate for the LGTBQ community?”

“No, no, it’s not that. And I will, one day. It’s more like…" Carisi wets his lips as if he is trying to taste the words on his tongue. “I mean, this is the way I am. And I just don’t want it to be something that I use to achieve something, you know? Like I don’t want to come out to advocate a movie or because others consider suddenly 'trendy' amongst celebrities to call themselves bi. The way I am privately just shouldn’t be discussed in public. If that all makes sense?”

“I guess so. You don’t want your work to be judged based on who you're sleeping with.”

“Yeah, exactly. But right now I'm at a point in my career where I'm doing really well. I mean, I'm established professionally and financially. I'm not dependent on publicity, either good or bad.”

“I understand.”

“But I mean if there was someone, you know, then I would come out of course.”

Barba doesn’t answer. He understands what Carisi means. He himself had never seen the point in coming out at his workplace. Because if he did, everything he does would be seen in light of his sexuality. Whether he'd be overlooked or maybe even preferred for promotions, in the DA’s office tattle Barba would be discussed on the basis of the gender of the person he invites into his bed. And that is not a chance Barba is willing to take, because he wants to get recognized for the good work he does and not for his sex life.

But Barba doesn’t get the chance to tell Carisi any of this, although he is not quite sure if he even wants to, and neither does Carisi get the chance to ask about him, because Ahmir is back offering them an after-dinner drink.

“I’ll have a Scotch.”

“I’m fine with the wine.” Carisi holds up his half-full glass.

“I guess you like Single Malt?”, Ahmir asks Barba.

“Is Blended any good?”

“No”, Ahmir answers simply and shakes his head in a way that tells Barba that he probably has to deal with ignorant guests all the time. “I have a very peated one from a distillery whose name I cannot pronounce, but the whiskey is called Octomore. If you would like to try that?”

“Sure.”

“But it's really very heavily peated.”

“Hit me.”

Ahmir smiles warmly at him, obviously enjoying Barba’s appreciating for fine dining and drinking.

The Scotch is indeed very smoky and Barba lets out an appreciative groan when he enjoys the burn in his throat. Carisi laughs at him with all his heart.

“How can you drink that stuff, I will never understand. But get up. C’mon, you can see the Hudson River from the window.”

Barba had already noticed that the restaurant offers a nice view on the Jersey City skyline. So he takes his Scotch glass and follows Carisi to the big window. The restaurant is not directly placed at the river bank, but the impressive presence of New York’s skyscrapers in the back offers a spectacular panorama nonetheless.

Carisi is right, even more than the sharp buildings in the back, Hudson River provides a stunning view. The dark waters move elegantly underneath the puttering ferries while the lights of the buildings shimmer along the waves.

“It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it?”

Barba looks at Carisi sideways. His craggy features are only half-lit by the streetlights shining in from outside. Barba likes the thoughtful look on him.

“It is, but I think you can only appreciate the turmoil of this city if you grew up here.”

“Where are you from?”

Again Barba is surprised that Carisi doesn’t know. “I’m from the Bronx.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“But you went to Harvard.”

“So?”

“And you're dressed like…”

“Like what?”

Involuntarily Barba touches the front of his blazer. He had already cursed Carmen several times this evening for letting him come to a dinner with Carisi dressed so understated.

“I don’t know, you just don't have the Bronx vibe.”

“They shouldn’t have let you off that island.”

Carisi chuckles, then squares his shoulders. He turns around to put his wine glass on the table closest to him. Then he takes the Scotch glass out of Barba's hand and places it next to the wine glass.

Carisi faces Barba and takes a deep breath.

He closes the few steps distance between them slowly. A bashful smile ghosts over his willing lips. His eyes shine. Locked assertively with Barba’s, they shine in an intense shade of blue and his lashes flutter prettily in anticipation.

But what touches Barba the most is that Carisi’s heart is obviously pounding like mad.

Carisi raises a hand and gently touches Barba’s cheek.

He ducks his head and Barba stands on tiptoe to meet him halfway.

Carisi’s lips are incredibly soft and delightfully sticky from the sweet wine. Carisi cautiously moves his lips against Barba’s. And Barba likes the feel of it, the warmness, the prickle, the tension. He likes the way Carisi’s scent tingles in his nose and he likes the way his hand feels on his cheek.

Barba’s eyes are still closed when Carisi pulls away.

Heavy-lidded he opens his eyes to look at Carisi to find out why he had possibly broken the kiss. What Barba sees are bright blue eyes flicking over his face, probably searching for a reaction. His still parted lips are clue enough apparently because in a heartbeat Carisi kisses him again. And Barba feels him smiling against his lips.

Carisi’s fingertips move into Barba’s hair and settle at the back of his head from where they assert light pressure to pull Barba deeper into the kiss. Carisi’s other hand strokes along Barba’s hip bones until they settle at the small of his back, only to press him closer to his body.

The first thing Barba does is melt into the touch. The touch of Carisi’s hand on his face, the touch of Carisi’s hand on his back, the touch of Carisi’s lips pressed onto his.

Carisi’s tongue licks at Barba’s bottom lip nearly timidly, but Barba opens up to him in a heartbeat. Their tongues explore each slowly, gently twirl around each other and enjoy to the fullest.

Barba hopes that, with their bodies pressed so closely together, Carisi wouldn’t feel _his_ heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Intuitively, Barba’s hands lift up and place themselves on Carisi’s shoulder blades. Were his head not already swimming because of the kiss, it would because of the firm muscles Barba can feel there under his palms.

Carisi is a good kisser. And the painfully slow pace makes Barba’s body thrum in anticipation for more.

Barba feels like they must have stood there kissing for hours, when he finally breaks the kiss.

“I don’t think you have a bed hidden somewhere here.”

Their faces are still only inches apart with Barba admiring Carisi’s kiss-bruised lips.

Carisi chuckles. “I’m not going to bed with you on the first date.”

And then he steps away, leaving Barba standing there rather dumbstruck with his hands still in the air as if he is still holding onto the embrace.

Barba suddenly feels cold where the touch of Carisi’s warm body has left him. Instinctively, Barba reaches up to his hair that Carisi has messed up, a bold move, and tries to tame it.

“Don’t worry, you still look very handsome”, Carisi says with sweet amusement when he hands the Scotch glass back to Barba.

* * *

 

Barba leaves about fifteen minutes later.

When he slips into the back of the cab, he feels profoundly giddy. Carisi, after fumbling with his own hands probably insecure about what to do, had pecked a soft goodbye kiss on Barba's lips.

With his fingertips Barba touches his mouth where he still feels Carisi.

In waves the besottedness, the rapture, the feeling of being overwhelmed rushes through his veins.

Barba cannot believe it.

Isn’t dumb luck really that this adorable man has for some reason chosen him as his love interest?

He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and the smile on Barba’s face only deepens when he sees a message from Carisi.

[ _What I forgot to ask. Second date?_ ]

Barba bites his lip. Caught up in his soppiness, he types out an answer way too fast: _[Sure]._

And if he weren’t sitting in a cab with the cab driver, Barba would either dance or scream or express his delight in any other embarrassing way.

[ _Awesome_ ], Carisi texts back and [ _Get home safely_ ].

[ _It’s a very short ride_ ]

[ _Anyway, take care_ ]  
[ _Good night_ ]  
[ _Sweet dreams_ ]

[ _Good night_ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I literally wrote 30k before they finally kiss. That's what I call a slow burn, kids!
> 
> I was so excited to show you this chapter, really hope you guys liked it. There was some rl drama going on for me the last days, so if you'd comment and leave kudos generously that would definitely make me feel better, thanks! <3
> 
> The idea of shutting down a whole restaurant belongs to soul_writerr and it is perfect, because that is a very Sonny-like big gesture that would throw Rafael off his feet!
> 
> What happens in the next chapter? There will be a second date for sure. And let's not forget that there are people out there following #Barisi. Where is the second date, what happens there etc. who knows? ;) Feel free to have a guess.


	8. The Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second Date

It is totally foolish of him to get so caught up in this.

Barba knows that. It is pure besottedness, nothing else. Because Barba is in no way surprised that when he stalks Carisi the next day on Twitter to find an especially horrifying threat.

_@cutepuppyswhore tweeted_

_You guys know that Mare was closed yesterday. Seems like Sonny had it shut down for “private purposes”. Wtf?!?!?!_

_@notsuspicious answered I’m intrigued 🤔_

_@sonshineallnitelong answered Ugh I wish he’d shut Mare down for me 😔_

_@carisistoonad answered Did he have a date?!?_

_@sonshineallnitelong answered @carisistoonad But with who?_

_@cutepuppyswhore answered @sonshineallnitelong @carisistoonad Our boy is in love!!! ☺_

_@Flag2.0 answered @sonshineallnitelong @carisistoonad I bet it’s that fine assed lawyer_

_@carisistoonad answered @sonshineallnitelong @cutepuppyswhore @Flag2.0 Team #Barisi *squealing* 🤗_

_@sonshineallnitelong answered @cutepuppyswhore @carisistoonad @Flag.20 He’s not gay guys! 🙄_

Barba had wasted forty five minutes of his morning on this instead of doing paperwork. With a heartfelt sigh he pinches his nose.

It is absolutely foolish.

And this _is_ a disaster.

Because he had honestly enjoyed the evening. Not just the date, he had enjoyed Carisi’s company since the moment he had walked into his office. And to be upfront, is it really wrong that Barba relishes the genuine attention of this man?

Admittedly, Carisi doesn’t meet his usual type at all. Barba doesn’t like the eager energy, the slouchy movements, that weird accent. He doesn’t like that Carisi is so easily amazed, that he smiles all the time and all in all, he is just too kind for the world and his own good.

This is why Barba doesn’t understand why he does like all of this in him.

The first time in so many years (or at all) that he meets a decent man (or person for that matter) and unfortunately he happens to be famous? This is not fair. This is not fair to Barba, not at all. Why can’t he just have fun? Why can’t he just enjoy the time with this man? Just get lost in the depths of these blue eyes for a while? But no, instead he has to deal with all the extra attention he does not want to have.

Barba’s eyes are still buried in his palms when Carmen walks into his office.

“Here are some files for the Kavanaugh case. The DA wants you to indict him rather quickly.”

Barba looks up to her with weary eyes. Actually, this woman is the closest he had gotten to a relationship in decades. She structures his day, buys gifts for his mother and occasionally reminds him to eat. One time, she had even given him a pack of boxer briefs that her boyfriend had bought in the wrong size. He had accepted it.

So there is absolutely no need to feel ashamed for her catching him in his tired moment.

“Thank you, just put it there.”

Barba vaguely gestures in front of him. Carmen finds a free spot on his desk which is a battlefield of documents, newspapers and notepads. She even knows him well enough to not try to organize his desk.

“Mr. Barba.”

Barba looks up to her. Carmen lingers in front of his desk. She holds her iPad like a shield in front of her chest.

“I hope you're not angry at me for helping him to set you up.”

“I surely feel like I should be.”

“I think he likes you. That’s why I helped him.”

“Oh, I have gathered that. He takes every opportunity to follow me around like a puppy.”

“It’s not just that. I think… he likes you.” Carmen shrugs her shoulders.

Barba considers Carmen for a long moment. She still has her hands wrapped around her iPad and looks at him expectantly. She smiles a little, encouragingly, but of course Barba has no intention to reply to that juvenile phrase no matter how many beats his heart had skipped hearing it.

“And you deserve to have a good time sometimes”, Carmen adds cautiously.

“It’s okay.”

Barba watches the relief wash over Carmen’s face and Barba wants to tell her that she must know him well enough to know that she had nothing to fear. But as he fears that would undermine his imaginary authority as her boss, he keeps his mouth shut.

“So.” Carmen shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “How was it?”

Barba sighs. Not because he feels embarrassed to answer, after all they are not teenagers sitting on flowery bed sheets eating ice cream with a spoon directly out of the tub. As a matter of fact, Barba actually feels overwhelmed by the urge to tell someone who wouldn’t gossip, wink or judge in any other way.

“It was nice”, he says therefore. “It was really nice”, he adds with a little smile. “I mean not _that_ nice”, he corrects quickly when he sees Carmen smiling back at him. “But it was really nice.”

Carmen nods, indicating to him that he doesn’t need to say more. Then she sighs and starts tapping on her iPad.

“In light of this, I’d better show you something.”

She hands him her iPad. She had opened an article on the homepage of a tabloid, going by the utterly suggestive name _Gossip,_ that is titled “Sunny Days For Sonny Carisi! Does the _Suspicion_ Star Have A New Boo?”.

The article is about how Carisi had shut down his own restaurant _Mare_ the other night for what the author of the article feels like could only have been a date. The article speculates about who his date had been with, his current co-star in _Suspicion_ and one of the ex-girlfriends as top candidates.

But the article also includes the two cozy snapshots of Barba with Carisi. In one paragraph the article wraps up how Barba and Carisi, two heroes in shining armor, had managed the impossible, namely bringing the monster behind bars, and the only way they had achieved this feat had been by working together. And while the author admits how “adorably cute” “Barisi” would be, they call it “rather wishful thinking”.

Barba hears his stomach growl in protest to the wording, but all in all he feels simply too devastated to manage any more physical reactions to that nonsense.

“I think you got quite a fanbase shipping you there.”

Tiredly, Barba looks up to Carmen. His mind feels exhausted. He blinks at her until he finally decides to ask.

“What on earth does ‘shipping’ mean?”

Carmen breaks out in ringing laughter. “Shipping, Mr. Barba!” She leans forward to take her iPad back. “As in they want you two to be in a relationship.”

Barba just rolls his eyes.

“Just don’t tell _anyone_ about this, okay?”

“Goes without saying, Mr. Barba.”

“Also not Kirk, he’s such a chatterbox.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Barba sends her a withering look, but Carmen doesn’t let herself be swayed. She just smiles at him, obviously not at all offended by how Barba talks about her boyfriend.

“Tell McCoy I will indict the hell out of that asshole as soon as I have enough evidence to build a case on.”

Barba sits up from his leisurely position with his feet on the table.

“So send Lieutenant Benson the usual memo to get you more evidence?”

“Right.”

Carmen takes the cue and turns around to leave him alone in his office. She is already half way through the door, when Barba calls her name again.

“And in case he ever wants to trick me into a lunch date or something.” Barba swallows and squares his shoulders, but he doesn’t manage to look at Carmen for the rest of the sentence. “Feel free to organize my schedule around it.”

* * *

Barba’s phone runs out of charge around one thirty in the afternoon. He then spends fifteen minutes searching for his charger in his desk which in turn turns into one hour of tidying up his desk. In the end, he does not find the charger he had thought to be in his desk which is why he needs to walk with sluggish steps to Carmen’s desk and ask her.

The reason why his phone had run out of charge so early in the day is that Barba had spent most of his morning, that originally had been reserved for paperwork, reading articles about his own splendid victory in the Harvey case. Admittedly, most articles had been oblivious to what Barba fears they could see, but the comments had mentioned the cursed hashtag a lot.

Just when he plugs his phone into charge, he receives a message that Carisi had sent him earlier.

[ _Do you like theater?_ ]

[ _Very much_ ], Barba types out the answer before checking other messages from Liv, other attorneys or his mother that all have higher priorities.

It takes an hour for Carisi to answer. [ _I have tickets to lifespan of a fact on thursday. You wanna come?_ ]

Barba bites his bottom lip. There is no way on earth he can deny the excited bounces his heart is making, because there is nothing that Barba would rather like to do than just invite Carisi over that very evening. But Barba is also aware of the disquieting feeling in his chest, because even worse than others thinking that Barba likes Carisi is Barba admitting that he might.

Maybe this is Barba’s last chance to back out.

[ _I would love to_ ]

* * *

Until their date a week later Carisi texts him every evening. Silly as it is Barba answers to every [ _How was your day?_ ] or [ _How you doin?_ ] and after a few days Barba feels like he even gets the hang of it. [ _Could you stop using emojis. That would be great, thank you_ ]

On the night of their date, Carisi picks Barba up an hour too early. He had called to suggest that they could slip in through the side entrance and have a drink in their private box before the play starts.

“So don’t wear a tux.” Carisi had laughed on the phone. “Nobody can see us anyway.”

Barba, still sullen for how incredibly dressed down he had been on their first date, had widened his eyes for a moment, unsure how he would be able to express his shock in words.

“How _dare_ you?”

“Just wear something comfortable.”

“I’m very comfortable in a tux.”

“I’m serious. It’s like watching TV up there in that box.”

“If you’re wearing sweatpants I’ll turn around on the spot.”

“You know what?” And Barba feels a familiar warmth in his chest upon hearing Carisi’s leisured accent whirl around the words. “You can see it as an experience, you know, something odd. Like going to the theater in casual clothes.”

“In case you’re actually trying to get in my pants, that’s not the way.”

“Uh”, Carisi replies. Barba closes his eyes to imagine the blush that must be spreading over his face. _God,_ he loves that blush. “I just want you to feel free to relax.”

“I’m sure we’re going to have a good time.”

“Great.”

Barba can basically hear the smile in Carisi’s voice and he knows that he himself is smiling like a fool.

“See you later then?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up at seven.”

* * *

 

Carisi picks him up with a car. They greet each other with unease. Because the moment Barba slips next to him onto the backseat is awkward, there sitting in the car the two men do not quite know how what to say to each other. In the end they only smile, no handshake, no hug.

“Have you heard about the play?”, Carisi asks Barba when they arrive in their private box.

“I have read the book actually”, Barba answers while he walks towards the banister.

The rows of seats are yet to be filled. In fact, the whole theater is surreally silent. There are no technicians rushing over the stage, no playgoers running up and down the aisles.

Barba looks down to the beige velvet seats that are lined in an oval shape in front of the stage. Spotlights are scattered all over the big theater hall, but only a few are turned on. Large chandeliers hanging from the black and golden décor of the ceiling seem a little lost in this empty big theater hall. Pomposity where the stage is the only place that deserves attention.

There amidst unnecessary splendor, it really feels like Carisi and Barba are all alone.

“It’s impressive, isn’t it?”

Carisi steps next to Barba.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Studio 54 is a big theater though. I prefer the small ones. I mean, the theater lives from that moment that the people are right there with you.”

Barba looks up to him to see him put his fingertips together and point to the stage.

“But everyone recognizes me, so I can’t just sit in a normal seat…” Carisi just shrugs his shoulder, but he looks a little sad.

“Why did you choose television then?”

Carisi laughs, amused. “The ones who watch television are very much like the ones who make television. They're obsessed with details, they go over every little thing until everything's perfect. It’s hard work, it’s exhausting really, but I love it.”

Carisi turns around to Barba and leans an elbow onto the banister. He looks at Barba expectantly, a corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile. Barba takes this moment to scrutinize him from head to toe, by now he knows that Carisi indeed enjoys being checked out.

He is wearing dark blue loafers, very elegant, very dark designer jeans and this navy blue polka dotted shirt that he had worn when Barba had seen him on television for the first time. _As if he knew_.

And quite frankly, Barba wonders how long he has to keep staring at him.

“But one day, between seasons maybe, I'd like to do a play again.” Carisi points to the stage. “You see a play one time, usually, and it shakes you for life. That’s remarkable.”

Barba nods. He must admit that he is very pleased, if not impressed by how assured Carisi is about his work. He knows what he has, he knows what impact he has and he seems to know exactly where he wants to go.

“I’m looking forward to the play.”

Barba’s words are only a mutter, as if his voice is damped by some silly jolt of affection weighing into his words.

“Cool. Me too.”

Carisi smiles at him fondly, a view that Barba should be used to by now. So there is really no reason for his stomach to flip every time like that one and only time in fifth grade when he had jumped from the three-meter springboard. Nonetheless the set of white teeth keep conjuring that warm feeling into his stomach and even more than that, the same expression into his own face.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

Carisi had pointed to a little table behind their seats. It contains a carafe of an amber liquid that looks suspiciously like Scotch, a rock glass and a few beer bottles. No ice, no lemon. Which means that Carisi had noticed that Barba likes his Scotch neat. Not that there is any other way to drink Scotch.

“You’re really going to have beer?”, Barba asks incredulously.

“After you were so unenthused about my TV-couch analogy, I kinda feel like I have to.”

Carisi laughs openly and Barba feels weirdly uplifted by the sound of it.

They clink their glass and bottle – because yes, Carisi drinks directly out of the bottle - and talk about the play for a while, until Carisi shifts his weight and awkwardly clears his throat.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Uh.”

Barba’s heart suddenly beats faster. His thoughts begin to rush through his mind. He knows that he is sending mixed signals because he had rejected him while at the same time generously accepting his attention. But Barba had figured that this has become part of their “game” and given their involvement in the trial earlier, they had actually needed to be careful for a while. So Barba doesn’t see why Carisi should complain about this now.

“There's quite some attention on this hashtag.”

Barba’s heart drops.

“But if you react, you just give it unnecessary attention.”

Barba feels like someone had thrown a basketball at him, but as he had been unprepared it hits him too hard in the chest.

“I just… want to keep this private.”

“Yeah.” Carisi nods happily. “That’s what I want, too.”

“Good.”

“I mean, you really don’t need to be afraid that I'll draw you into some kind of mad publicity thing. Or whatever.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Barba looks at him tenderly, with a warm smile that is maybe even a little shy. He raises his Scotch glass and indicates to Carisi to clink glasses again. They do and put their respective drinks to their lips, all the while they hold eye contact.

The theater hall slowly fills up with agitated chatter. As the show is about to start, Barba and Carisi also take their seats.

Barba leans back in the comfortable chair, his second Scotch is in his hand and he smirks at the crowd down in the theater hall. Barba bathes in the comfort their private box offers them and enjoys the endorphins rushing through his body for feeling so extraordinary special. In a way, Barba feels like this is the seat that he was destined to have.

“Rafael?”

Barba hums in response.

“There's something I'd like to say before the play starts.”

The people seem so close but yet so far, as he can observe them perfectly from above but they cannot see him.

“Rafael?”

“Yes.”

Barba tears his gaze away from the crowd underneath him.

Carisi wets his lips. “For the last hour…” He takes a shuddering breath. “I’ve been dying to kiss you.”

He blushes beautifully in the most tender shade of red.

And for a moment Barba feels like he cannot breathe.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

They both smile at each other. Barba’s chest feels warm. So warm. Indeed, his chest feels so warm that the warmth tingles over his skin and paints his cheeks in a fiery red.

They both lean forward.

Barba’s eyes flick to Carisi’s lips that are slightly parted, waiting to be kissed.

Slowly, their faces get closer and closer together until their lips finally meet.

Immediately, all the sounds around Barba turn mute. The world seems to be nothing more than Carisi’s lips. So he closes his eyes and just concentrates on how they feel.

Instinctively, Barba presses firmly back onto Carisi’s lips. They feel incredibly soft, incredibly right. They taste like _more._

Carisi’s tongue cautiously touches Barba’s bottom lip and Barba opens up to him in a heartbeat. Their tongues meet and slowly entangle.

Barba breathes in deeply through his nose. Carisi smells clean, like soap and Barba can detect a pinch of beer in the other man’s scent.

They are still kissing when the lights go out, the audience chatter dies and Daniel Radcliffe starts to speak.

Barba doesn’t realize that the play had started until the audience breaks out into a particularly long laughing streak.

Drowsily, Barba opens his eyes. His lips are still glued to Carisi’s who also hadn’t noticed (or doesn’t care) that they had missed the first part of the play. With Carisi’s face so close to him, Barba only sees that the younger man has his eyes still closed and had totally drowned in the kiss.

He looks beautiful.

Barba pulls away and smiles at the dumbstruck look on Carisi’s face. His pursed lips follow after Barba’s, but only find thin air. This is when Carisi opens his heavy-lidded eyes.

“I cannot believe you’re making us waste Broadway tickets”, Barba whispers with a smirk.

Carisi blinks a few times to collect himself. Admittedly, Barba is really not very nice to him. First he rips him out of this heavenly make-out session only to accuse him immediately afterwards.

“I can get us as many as you want.”

Carisi winks at him with a charming smile and sits back in his chair.

Barba feels slightly offended by how quickly the younger man had regained his composure.

Barba also leans back and takes a sip of his Scotch that apparently had been in his hand the whole time.

Barba tries to watch the play. As he had read the book, it should be easy to get into it even though he had missed quite a bit.

All he can see is that two men are talking to each other on stage.

Barba starts chewing on his lip.

Then he starts thrumming with his fingers on the armrest.

Carisi also has one hand laid on the armrest.

 _Screw it_. Barba downs his Scotch and places the glass onto the empty seat next to him.

He had read the book after all.

Barba puts his hand on Carisi’s. The other man turns his head to look at Barba inquiringly. Instantly, Barba reaches his other now free hand out to cup Carisi’s face and pulls him into a deep kiss.

This time, the kiss is far from gentle.

Barba claims Carisi’s lips insistently. Zealously, he licks into his mouth drawing hungry kisses from him.

Barba feels intoxicated from the taste of Carisi on his lips. Teasingly, he sucks on the other man’s bottom lip. The tiny moan that escapes Carisi’s lips makes Barba’s head swim.

And Barba’s heart is pounding madly by now. Carisi is an incredibly good kisser, he is passionate and insisting and it sends shivers through Barba’s body.

Carisi has put a hand on his bicep, but Barba feels like he needs more contact.

Barba lets his hand wander over every spot on Carisi’s body that he can reach and secretly curses the stupid armrest between them. Carisi feels firm underneath the fabric and Barba wants nothing more than to just get rid of these unnecessary layers. With his last ounce of self-control Barba restrains himself from climbing into the other man’s lap.

Barba’s hand ends up on Carisi’s thigh. But Barba knows better than to go further, even though he feels himself ache with arousal. Carisi had made it clear to him last time that he wouldn’t cross that line lightly and Barba will of course not push him.

Is Barba a patient man? _No._ Especially not when it comes to Carisi. He feels his skin urging for the touch of the other man, a desire boils inside of him with such a force that it nearly scares Barba. But everything they do with each other feels incredibly right. Barba feels comfortable with Carisi and he senses that the other man feels the same. This is why he doesn’t want to destroy this wonderful thing they have with some bold move.

He would wait for Carisi to do the bold move. And Barba is already more than ready for it.

They do not break away from each other until the lights turn back on and the whooshing sound of applause fills the theater.

Barba clears his throat.

If possible Carisi looks even more beautiful now than before with his kiss-bruised lips, messy hair and the collar of his shirt out of place.

When their eyes meet, they both chuckle.

“And I thought I was too old to make out in the back of a movie theater.”

Carisi strokes his thumb over his bottom lip.

“You’re an adult and sophisticated now, making out in a private loge of a real theater is alright.”

Carisi laughs at Barba’s joke, but feigns indignation all the same.

“We should leave separately”, Carisi mumbles, watching the people slowly leave. “It was really full tonight.”

“Right.”

They both make unsuccessful attempts to tame their hair.

“So before we go, do you want another drink?”

“Yeah, would be great.”

The gentleman Carisi is, he gets up right away to fix Barba a Scotch and opens another beer for himself.

The burn of the Scotch on his tongue is the perfect addition to the giddiness Barba stills feels from making out like a teenager.

“You look good by the way.”

Barba looks up to Carisi, a little startled by the sudden compliment. Carisi smiles at him sheepishly. A content warmth settles in his stomach and Barba is sure that the Scotch is not the reason for it.

It is nearly unbearably sweet how genuine this man is.

“Thank you.”

Barba strokes over the front of his suit jacket. He is wearing a suit of course, he had chosen a purple color scheme, but he had forgone the tie. His attempt to show Carisi that he can be relaxed even in a suit.

And he feels totally embarrassed for not finding keener words to reply.

“But you always look good.”

And if the compliment by a handsome man like him who is not just ten years younger but also an actor whose face adorns movie bills is not overwhelming enough, Carisi blushes and looks away shyly.

And Barba just does not know what to say.

“I had a good time”, he says after a few moments of silence.

“Even though you missed the play?”

“It was worth it.”

Barba can see that a warm shiver is rolling through Carisi’s body and Barba happens to find that very sweet.

“But we shouldn’t try too soon to catch the play again. A little longer and I would've come in my pants.”

Carisi tilts his head and looks at him with consternation, but when Barba doesn’t answer he just shakes his head.

“Anyway. I need to tell you something.” Carisi takes a few gulps out of his beer. “I have a guest role in this series. You should know I’ll be in Canada for a few weeks. They’re shooting in the woods outside of Montreal.”

The shock must have shown on Barba’s face, because Carisi laughs at him. “If you miss me, you can call or text me anytime.”

Barba presses his lips together. He wants to do so much more than just texting and talking on the phone. He wants to do more than just making out actually.

“Do I know the series?”

“I don’t think so, it’s about post-apocalypse.”

“Post-apocalypse, huh?”

“It’s a very clever series”, Carisi answers while he checks his phone, apparently reading a text on it. “The car's waiting for you near the side entrance by the way. It'll take you home.”

 _Oh,_ so no drink that they could only have back at one of their apartments.

Once again, the disappointment must have shown on his face, because Carisi points over his shoulder towards the stage with his phone still in his hand.

“It’s just that Bobby Cannavale is an old friend of mine, he asked me to stop by.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t wanna be impolite to you, but it also wouldn’t be nice to him to refuse.”

Barba sees the sentence for what it is, an excuse to end the evening before any possible awkward moment of being asked to come up to his apartment.

Carisi walks up to Barba and touches his shoulders.

“Just wait for me, okay?”

Barba nods and feeling that Carisi needs reassurance he adds: “I will.”

And indeed Carisi smiles, looking extremely relieved. He ducks his head to kiss Barba good night. Sweetly and gently.

* * *

When Barba sits down in the back of the car, he feels like a toddler who cannot accept the inevitable. The turmoil in his stomach prevents him from pulling out his phone. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything.

So instead he starts thrumming his fingers on his knee. There in the car where nobody can see him, not that he wants anyone to see him, Barba pouts as if his life depends on it.

He doesn’t want Carisi to go.

Carisi doesn’t need to ask him back to his apartment, but Barba would like to see him again. Like tomorrow. For breakfast maybe?

Barba closes his eyes and sighs.

He is _pathetic._

On a sudden impulse, he reaches for his phone to do something that he would never do. To text Carisi even though they had kissed goodbye not even ten minutes ago.

And Barba feels even more pathetic when he doesn’t know what to text.

* * *

The next few days he spends sulking.

Everyone notices of course, but Barba doesn’t care. He is the right amount of sassy towards defense attorneys, but SVU’s detectives and, Barba is ashamed to admit, his mother receive a fair share of his anger that is caused by no one in particular except maybe the person who had decided that this stupid series needs to be shot in Canada. Right outside of 1 Hogan Place in Columbus Park, there are also trees. They would do just fine. No need to go to Canada.

Adding to his misery, the texts Carisi sends him are sparse. [ _Do they call that money here?_ ], [ _Just spent 15hrs sword fighting, with my last strength I send u this text_ ] and [ _I guess I’m too much of a new yorker to appreciate nature_ ].

On a Wednesday afternoon, waiting on a bench in front of courtroom 5a it suddenly hits Barba. It is just then, five days after the fact that Barba understands what Carisi had meant.

When Carisi had told him _“Just wait for me, okay?”_ he had meant _don’t see someone else_.

This, what they are doing, is so far away from what Barba usually does that he hadn’t even grasped that Carisi had been communicating the most essential basics of dating to him. T _his, what we have, it’s special and it's only between us._

Now that Barba thinks back to the moment when Carisi had said it, he remembers that it had sounded more like a friendly suggestion, but combined with the small pleading shimmer in his eyes, the sentence had probably been much more of a question than the wording indicated.

Is that why he had sent him those roses during the time of the trial? To tell him that, if he is interested, that there is someone who would like to be with him? Because back then the trial had been about to start, they couldn’t have gone out together. It had been just a matter of waiting for the trial to be over.

So does that mean in return that Barba has any claim on him now? If his mother would ask again why he is acting so agitated lately, could he answer “My boyfriend is in Canada fake sword fighting people who live in space”? Even though they haven’t even slept with each other?

The doors of the courtroom open and people stream outside into the hallway.

Barba gets up and types out a message while he walks inside towards the prosecution’s desk.

[ _I have never really thanked you for the roses_ ]

His silly heart beats delightedly when Carisi replies immediately: [ _Does that mean u want me to send u some again?_ ]

[ _No_ ]  
[ _Just finish up quickly there_ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> This is what our Sonny looks like in this chapter.
> 
> The idea of them having a date in the theatre comes from soul_writerr, of course. Shamelessly, I burrowed her idea of them missing the play completely and I even used some dialogue suggestions word for word. Barba's text about emojis is simply stolen from her. The name of the restaurant is also her idea.
> 
> I imagine the series Sonny has a guest role in to be my other passion _The 100_.
> 
> Unfortunately, words don't want to flow lately, so I have not written Chapter 9 yet. Which means, you might have to wait a little for the next update. But I have it all planned out. What can you expect for Chapter 9? Definitely third date. And they say three is the charm, don't they? Is it though? There will be a little talk about their feelings.
> 
> Don't leave without giving kudos or leaving a comment! I love your comments, guys, and discussing the story with you, so feel free to guess and suggest about Chapter 9.


	9. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barba needs to talk about his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Shout out to barbaesparza for betareading despite her busy schedule.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. And please, guys, I could really need kudos and comments, so please tip me!

Barba should be happy that the waves have calmed.

Because, as expected, the fates had not been on their sides. People had seen first him and then Carisi half an hour later leaving the theater through the side entrance. It had only taken the internet community a day to make the connection. This had led their “fan base” or “shippers” as Carmen had so charmingly dubbed them to add more theories to the Barisi hashtag, one of them being that Barba is helping Carisi to prepare for his role as a TV lawyer.

While this particular theory makes Barba fear for his professional reputation being spiraled down the toilet, nothing makes him wrinkle his nose more than the maybe most obvious theory: That Carisi and him had simply become friends. The possibility on the other hand that the handsome actor and the older lawyer are dating remains nothing more than a silly idea to smile at.

While Barba had obviously not been happy about Carisi shooting in Canada for five weeks, he had been even less happy about the fact that Carisi seemed to work around fifteen hours every day. So while Barba had hoped for ridiculously romantic text messages that he could roll his eyes at, but at the same time secretly reread any time he wanted to, his phone mostly stayed silent during the day. Only late in the evenings he could count on a few tender texts.

So Barba had settled with looking at the picture of one hundred red roses from time to time. The bottle of whiskey _Door to Heaven_ had also been finished quickly.

Barba had not told anyone of course. The things that make him feel embarrassed about the hashtag in general are the same things he does not want to admit in front of others. What is he supposed to say? To Liv for example? _Do you remember our witness? That famous guy? I know it’s silly, but I have a crush on him._

It had taken a week for Barba to accept that he was gaining nothing from playing cool. So one Thursday evening around midnight when they both had been exchanging a few lazy texts, he had just called him. Carisi’s voice when he had picked up had sounded surprised and overjoyed at the same time.

And just like that Barba had started to develop the habit of telling someone about his day. Because that was basically what they had done from that point on. Even if they only found five minutes during the day, they had taken the time to tell each other about their days on the phone.

And like a sinful dessert, to Barba it had felt like a joy he shouldn’t have.

Just when their daily phone calls had become routine, Carmen, after briefing him about the latest orders from Jack McCoy’s office, casually informs him: “By the way, I canceled your dinner with town council Booker this evening.”

“What? Why would you do that? I can finish these motions until the evening, I’ve been wanting to talk to that man for weeks now.”

Barba rummages around on his overladen desk. He does have a lot on his plate, the evening would be better spent at home on his little coffee table with a few casefiles. The ridiculous demand of his boss to finish the outstanding paperwork as soon as possible surely does not help, but a dinner to schmooze some council man is nothing that Barba can’t handle.

“Because Mr. Carisi’s back.”

“What?”

Barba’s head shoots up. He looks at Carmen with wide eyes only to find her smirking at him knowingly.

“He asked me not to tell you. Surprises are his thing apparently, but I figured you’d want to dress up and, uh, in case you need to prepare otherwise.”

Barba nods.

He tries to keep his breath steady while letting his eyes trail over his desk. It is an impossible task to ask from him, but with Carmen in the room there is no other way to keep his pride intact than by swallowing his probably absolutely ridiculous smile.

“Where does he want to go?”

“His place.”

Now, Barba needs to bite his lip in order to hide his delight. They would be alone. In private. Just the two of them. Where nobody can harass them with stupid tweets. Barba’s heart turns in a somersault.

“Ah, okay.”

Carmen likewise is obviously trying her best to keep a straight face. “He asked what food you like.”

“And what did you tell him?”

Carmen shrugs her shoulders and presses her iPad a little tighter to her chest.

“Italian.”

Barba narrows his eyes for a withering look.

“He also asked if you like dessert.”

“Don’t tell me you said I liked vanilla.”

Carmen lets out a ringing laughter. “I’m not that brazen. But I told him the truth. You _are_ a sweet tooth.” She stops short for a moment. “Besides, you don’t like vanilla.”

“Oh my god, do I want to know what you told him?”

“I said you like sweet, that’s it. I swear.”

Barba considers her for a moment, but as this woman ( _bless her_ ) had had the state of mind to arrange this date for him despite his busy schedule, he decides to believe her.

“Good.” Barba squares his shoulders and finds a document in front of him that Carmen had wanted him to sign. “Then, would you tell Detectives Amaro and Rollins to ask this neighbor back to the precinct to take his statement?” Barba signs the paper without even knowing what it is about and hands it to her. “That would be all, thank you.” Barba looks up to her standing next to his desk. “ _Thank you_.”

Carmen nods. She had nearly left the office already, when Barba calls behind her.

“Wait, what do you mean 'prepare otherwise'?”

* * *

Maybe Barba should feel ashamed for how casually he had dressed for the occasion. Not just that Carisi himself is strikingly handsome and especially considering what a hard time Barba had given the man for suggesting to dress casually in the theater, Carisi certainly deserves more than Tom Ford jeans.

But Barba has certain expectations for the evening. They would be in Carisi’s apartment after all, so Barba hopes to end up lying on his back on an extremely expensive designer couch making out with Carisi on top of him. The jeans and polo shirt therefore cannot really be called a choice, but rather a compulsion as he wouldn’t risk his fine shirts and suits being rumpled.

Carisi, the gentleman he is, had again sent a car to pick him up. This time Barba had managed to pull off a more bored expression when slipping into the backseat, not that the driver had cared for his feigned familiarity for this special treatment.

The car had let him out in front of an inconspicuous building in East Village. A doorman had let him in, greeted him by name and informed him on which floor and which apartment Mr. Carisi lived.

Standing in the elevator of Carisi’s apartment building, Barba straightened his jacket and let out a deep breath. _It’s just a date_ , nothing he had never done before. Nonetheless, the weeks Carisi and he had spent apart, no matter or maybe because of how close they had come during their daily conversations, make him feel nervous now. The shift from talking on the phone to finally see him again in person is an odd one, like trying to avoid stepping into a puddle by making a big step forward.

The unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach though disappears as soon as the door of apartment No 19 opens. The familiar sight of dimples, bright blue eyes and a goofy smile greet him.

“Welcome, come in!”

As Barba feels weirdly tongue tied, he simply replies with a warm smile. Hoping that it would tell everything he isn’t able to say.

Carisi shuts the door behind him and the gentleman he is, helps him out of his jacket.

“Make yourself at home.”

Carisi stretches out his arms, apparently to gesture into the apartment behind him. But Barba’s eyes are fixed on Carisi’s face.

He looks just like he remembers. Only his hair is a little longer, he is freshly shaved and even in the woods of a northern country like Canada his pale skin had gotten a little color.

“Mi casa es tu casa.”

Barba winces. “You just know how to woo a native Spanish speaker.”

“Oh Rafael, didn’t I miss you sassing me?”

“I couldn’t do that well enough over the phone.”

“All the more happy I am to have you back.”

Carisi smiles in a way that can only be described as beautiful. A kind of smile that comes straight from the heart. A kind of smile that not even an open hearted person like Carisi awards to just anyone.

Barba considers him for a long moment before he decides to give in to his urge. After stepping closer to him, Barba fists Carisi’s shirt and pulls him into a kiss.

As expected, Carisi does not mind at all. His hands find Barba’s shoulders and give them a gentle squeeze. As the kiss lingers, Barba feels Carisi smiling against his lips.

When they break apart, Barba does not feel nervous anymore. Carisi’s scent is in his nose again, his taste again on his lips. It feels right.

“Aw, you missed me.”

Barba rolls his eyes dramatically at the ridiculously bright grin on Carisi’s face.

“You’re such a sap.”

Barba tries to walk past him, but he is stopped by long arms wrapping around his left shoulder.

“Come here.”

Carisi’s soft, but assertive hold effectively thwarts Barba’s attempt to step further into the living area. Barba feels his right shoulder pressed into the other man’s chest.

Instinctively, Barba stiffens up. _A hug?_ How old is he?

For a full of twenty seconds Barba is convinced that Carisi is somehow joking. That this embrace is just an extension of his “aw, you missed me” line, a cruel scheme to tease him. But as he feels the calm breath of Carisi on his hair, he soon realizes that the younger man is, as always, completely genuine.

Barba wants to protest. He barely hugs his mother after all. The protest however dies on his lips as his body betrays him: He feels himself relaxing. He even leans in, resting his temple against Carisi’s sternum.

Barba holds still. He just listens, but he cannot make out any specific sounds in the apartment expect Carisi breathing and maybe his own heartbeat. Carisi in turn had just become a thousand times more attractive with his tall figure embracing so perfectly around Barba. Carisi feels seductively warm, it’s too good to be true.

In that moment, Barba realizes that Carisi isn’t wearing any cologne. He totally smells like himself. So Barba moves his head and tucks his nose into Carisi’s long neck.

And Carisi fits his chin on the top of Barba’s head.

Barba doesn’t know for how long they stand like this. All Barba knows is that his knees feel weirdly weak and that he is absolutely fine with this.

“Rafi?”

“Don’t call me that.” His voice is muffled by Carisi’s neck.

“Are you hungry?”

Carisi had asked this much, but he doesn’t loosen his grip a bit. Indeed, everything in Carisi’s posture suggests that if Barba wanted to, they would just keep standing this way all evening.

So Barba mumbles a protest into Carisi’s neck.

“Okay. Whatever you said, but I’m starving. So if you allow, I’ll prepare us dinner.”

Reluctantly, Barba parts away from Carisi’s neck.

“Very well then.”

Barba clears his throat. He smooths the front of his shirt and checks his hair with his hand. The hair doesn’t feel out of place.

Feeling his cheeks burning, he swallows and follows Carisi who has walked into his kitchen area.

This is when he notices the nice apartment. It is not exceptionally big, because after all this is still Manhattan, but yet spacious enough. The apartment is not as stylish as Barba, foolishly probably, had expected from a rich person, but indeed very simple and cozy.

The dominating colors are Mediterranean ones, light yellow and beige with accents of navy blue. A lot of cherry tree wood dominates the living area that also includes an open kitchen space. Barba detects immediately that all the furniture in this room must be custom-built and very high quality.

Barba can’t help but be impressed.

And jealous. He had worked his ass off for as long as he can remember and is nowhere near affording a place like that. And all Carisi does is show off his good looks in front of the camera.

Barba rounds the kitchen island to step beside Carisi who has started to cut eggplants.

Long fingers wrap around the black knife handle, clever hands guide the blade skillfully through the vegetables. Without being asked, the younger man falls into a ramble about how he is going to prepare Barba the best parmigiana di melanzane in the world.

Barba doesn’t listen. It is a dish made of eggplants. In his opinion, that is enough information.

Instead, he watches Carisi’s face that focuses on his tasks of cutting without affecting his fingers while at the same time talking about eggplants.

As always Barba notices how beautiful he is. He would never admit out loud, but those five weeks that Carisi had been in Canada, Barba had binge-watched the first three seasons of _Suspicion_. He had even made himself a Netflix account for this. In the end, it had helped Barba a little. It had given him the foolish impression that he wouldn’t forget what Carisi looks like.

Then again, this stupid show is nothing compared to seeing his soft features in person.

Carisi puts a pan on the gas stove and lights up the flame. A strain of dirty blond hair falls elegantly onto his forehead. Eagerly, Carisi is still talking about what he is doing, sparing glances to Barba every now and then.

 _Hugging_ , this is what they are doing now. Apparently. This is what Barba is doing now.

Barba purses his lips and lifts his chin.

Carisi’s face lights up in pure delight and for a second his hands stop doing what they are doing to the eggplants so that he can safely lean forward to meet Barba’s lips halfway.

 _Smooching_. This is also what they are doing now.

“I missed you.”

This sentence shoots right into Barba’s heart. He feels warm everywhere under his skin and there is no way to deny that he is blushing. He is embarrassed of himself. How come this simple sentence has such an effect on him?

When he looks away his eyes find Carisi’s left hand that is leisurely tucked into his side while the other one wiggles the pan.

Curiously, Barba reaches out and touches Carisi’s hand. Naturally, Carisi meets his touch and entangles their fingers.

 _Hand holding_. This is also what they are doing now.

And on top of all, Carisi smiles at Barba as if he had hung the moon.

“Just let me get this into the oven, then I can pay better attention to you.”

Carisi pours him a red wine before he prepares a casserole of fried eggplants, tomato sauce and mozzarella. Barba sits down on a barstool next to the kitchen island and contently sips his wine.

“You’re becoming too good to be true, if you’re also a good cook.”

Carisi sends him a short look with a raised eyebrow. “Also?”

“You’re rich, you’re hot”, Barba pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Thanks for appreciating me so much.”

Barba shrugs his shoulders and takes another sip of the wine that lies heavily sweet on his tongue. Carisi, finally done preparing, opens the preheated oven to put the casserole inside.

“For being so well-expressed in court, you’re rather bad at flirting.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just being honest here.”

“Again, excuse me?”

Carisi closes the door of the oven with a loud thud. Without answering, he walks up to Barba to pull him in for a kiss.

The lingering tension of the theater, the weeks only talking on the phone had taken their toll, because the kiss is far away from innocent.

Involuntarily, Barba gets up from the barstool so as to get a better grip on the man. That only leads to the fact that their hips end up being pressed together tightly. Barba can feel that he is not the only one affected by their passionate kiss.

In the heat of the moment, Carisi takes a step forward and thereby pushes Barba against the kitchen island. The countertop presses painfully against Barba’s hips, not that he minds, but he lets out a moan of surprise.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to.”

Carisi pulls away to check if he had somehow hurt Barba who in turn simply places a hand into the back of his neck to pull the younger man back into the kiss.

“No, keep going, I like that.”

Barba presses his lips back on Carisi’s, but he soon feels that the other man is stiffening under his insisting touch. So Barba breaks the kiss once more to look into Carisi’s face. He cannot quite read his expression. Carisi doesn’t shy away, but Barba sees worry crinkling on his forehead. This is why Barba needs to put some distance between them.

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry. I’m making things awkward.”

“No, don’t be. This is nice. I mean, what we’re doing is great. There’s no need to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to…”

“I’m really fine with what we’re doing.”

“It’s more like.” Carisi wets his lips, tasting the words on his tongue and forces himself to look Barba in the eyes. “It’s more like I’m afraid of what happens after.”

Barba considers him for a long moment, hoping that Carisi would see the question mark in his face. But be it bashfulness or embarrassment for destroying the heat of the moment, Carisi just stares back without elaborating.

“Look, if you don’t want to sleep with someone who might kiss and tell, an ADA prosecuting sex crimes is actually a good choice. Come to think of it, this might be the first and only time that my profession comes in handy in these matters.”

“No, I mean...” Carisi sighs and squares his shoulders before he continues. “I know that sometimes being with someone like me, you know, famous, could be considered a thrill by some people.”

Barba thinks that he can detect a pinch of hurt in these blue eyes. This is how he understands that Carisi’s cryptic little description hints to unpleasant experiences he must have had in the past. But an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach tells Barba that he does not really want to know details.

“The other thing that keeps happening to me is that people take advantage of my, uh, fortunate situation. But I actually think that you have more candor than that.”

It takes a moment for Barba to grasp what Carisi means and when he does he immediately feels sorry or ashamed that maybe he had been one of those people after all.

“Even though you claim to appreciate my wealth and my good looks the most, I’d like to believe that’s not true.”

Not to mention how easily Barba had accepted the ridiculous amount of money Carisi had thrown out of the window for roses and shared meals.

Barba hates himself for it. Carisi is not asking him a question and Barba knows him well enough to know that he won’t push him to say something that he is uncomfortable with.

Carisi doesn’t expect something that Barba is not willing to give. Nevertheless, Barba feels that this is the moment that Carisi needs some reassurance. And Barba does hate himself for the fact that without this nudge, he probably wouldn’t say anything.

“Look”, Barba says therefore.

He lifts his hand to fumble with the button of Carisi’s Henley, giving his fingers something to do while his mind searches for words.

“Usually, for me, there are no third dates. Never actually. Also not second dates, maybe not even firsts for that matter.”

Barba tears his gaze away from the button to look at Carisi who has an eyebrow raised.

“It’s not about promiscuity.” Barba shakes his head and concentrates on the button again. “It’s more that my job demands so much of my attention that I never wanted someone to be caught up in the middle of this.”

Barba looks up again to find Carisi looking at him with a soft expression.

“And quite frankly, there was never someone who I wanted to stick around.”

Barba’s voice had turned into a whisper. Suddenly, he thinks that it might be a possibility that the ground underneath him would open up and he would fall into some hole.

With a hammering heart, he looks Carisi in the eyes. And Carisi’s expression, if possible, had softened even more.

When Carisi opens his mouth to say something, Barba clears his throat. He lets go of Carisi’s button and takes a step back.

“And I think it’s needless to add that being rich and pretty isn’t what makes me attracted to you.”

Displaying a smile that ranges somewhere between delighted and relieved, Carisi says: “I wouldn’t mind hearing more about it.”

Barba’s lips form a pout. His heart still lays heavy in his chest. Barba has no experience of talking about his feelings, at all basically, so opening up even as little as he had does not come easy to him. This is why Barba thinks that he deserves more credit than Carisi having found back his mischievous grin so fast.

Barba squares his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t want to vouch for your eloquence or humor, but I can fairly say that you have a bright mind. And, uh…” Barba looks down to his hands. “I guess, it’s also fair to say that you’re nice beyond measure.”

When Barba looks back to Carisi, he sees that the sparkle is back in his bright blue eyes and he is grinning from ear to ear.

“What is it?”

“You’re cute.”

Now Barba’s eyes widen in shock.

“I’m a grown man, I’m not _cute.”_

“Whatever you say, Rafi.”

“And don’t call me that.”

Carisi only smiles and after taking a heavy breath, turns back to his granite countertop to prepare them a salad. And this is when Barba also allows himself to breathe, feeling his heart to be a little lighter. Barba studies Carisi’s face while he is cutting vegetables and is glad to see that he must have managed to calm Carisi down.

Carisi falls back into chatty mood easily. He tells him everything about fifteen hour long days of shooting in thin costumes in the cold woods outside of Montreal, before he asks Barba about his cases. Barba had told him bits about his present trials over the phone already and he doesn’t miss the fact that Carisi is very eager to listen to Barba’s legal insights.

When the oven beeps to indicate that Carisi’s miracle of a parmigiana is ready, Carisi quickly refills their wine before he serves them their dinner on a little wooden kitchen table that is placed in front of the kitchen window. Barba cranes his neck to get a better look outside. In the distance he can detect a glimpse of East River.

“Buon appetito.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t try to say that in Spanish.”

“Buen appetito?”

“No”, Barba says affirmatively, but returns Carisi’s heartwarming smile all the same.

Barba takes his knife and fork in his hands and takes a bite of the parmigiana.

“Oh my god”, he lets out in surprise and earns a grin from Carisi.

“Right?”

“That’s incredibly good.”

“I know!” Carisi looks thoroughly pleased with himself. “I told you the trick is to cut the eggplants very thinly and then this wonderful olive oil from Sicily… it’s just perfect. So don’t you dare telling me I can’t woo with my cooking skills.”

Barba watches him as Carisi at the same time eats, talks and mimics how to cut an eggplant. Something warm blossoms in his chest and he cannot for the life of him understand why he finds Carisi’s dimples so absolutely charming.

“You know I didn’t say all those things to get you in bed, right?”

Surprised, Carisi looks up from his plate. But soon he nods.

“You’re cute, Rafi.”

“Again, why would you say that?”

But Carisi answers with nothing more than a smile. They continue their dinner with mostly Barba talking as Carisi keeps asking him about cases he has worked. After Carisi has finished his third - Barba had been polite enough to only accept one refill - of parmigiana, Barba observes him to become slightly tense.

With trembling hands Carisi ruffles through his hair and even spills some wine onto the beautiful kitchen table without showing any attempt to clean it up. Even more than not worrying about stains on a beautiful cherry wood table, Barba is shocked that Carisi had apparently stopped listening to him.

The moment the last drop of wine leaves Barba’s glass, Carisi asks him.

“Are you done?”

“Yes, yeah. It was really delicious.”

“Okay.”

Carisi gets up and rounds the table, until he stands in front of Barba. Wordlessly, he takes Barba’s hand indicating to him to stand up too, and then leads him by the hand through a short hallway into the bedroom.

Immediately, Barba thinks that they could have just started making out again until the heat of the moment would have made them stumble into this room. That would have been an essentially sexier move, but Barba cannot deny the anticipation that is prickling under his skin nonetheless.

Their fingers still entangled, Carisi turns to Barba to cautiously kiss him. Carisi’s lips are sticky from the red wine which somehow makes Carisi even more adorable.

To Barba’s disappointment, Carisi breaks the kiss soon.

“Uhm, sorry, just wait a second.”

Carisi awkwardly rounds his bed to switch a button that turns on the bedside lamps on each side of the king size bed.

This is when Barba looks around in the rather small bedroom. The bed with its dove blue sheets seems to cover up most of the room. There is a built-in-cupboard in the same cherry tree wood as the rest of the apartment and a door next to the bed probably leads to an ensuite bathroom. The walls are painted in a light gray and an elegant burgundy rug lies in front of the bed.

This is where Barba is now standing.

“We really don’t have to do anything.”

“I know, I trust you.” Carisi slowly walks back towards Barba, cupping his face between his two hands. “And I want you.”

Barba wishes that Carisi wouldn’t have said this, because if Carisi would say this sentence one more time he would come right then and there.

“Are _you_ comfortable?”

Barba smiles. _How does he manage to be sexy and cute at the same time?_

“Yes, very”, Barba answers affirmatively.

Finally, they kiss. They kiss for real. Carisi soon flicks his tongue to gently lick over Barba’s bottom lip who opens up willingly. But the kiss doesn’t stay gentle at all. Barba’s heart beats too fast, so he just cannot help but wrap his arms around Carisi’s middle while he licks hungrily into Carisi’s mouth. All the while, Carisi circles his thumb over Barba’s jawline and his fingertips mess up Barba’s hair.

When Barba’s hands involuntarily move under the Henley and find bare skin there, Barba reminds himself that he should follow Carisi’s lead. They hadn’t talked about it and Barba guesses that Carisi may not even know where this is going, so he should be careful. Because the last thing he wants is to destroy the beauty of their thing.

Nevertheless, his hands pull the shirt over Carisi’s head.

“Fuck.”

Barba had cursed involuntarily. He should have known that Carisi would look like this. A Greek Adonis would turn pale at the sight of Carisi’s naked torso. Rather awestruck, Barba touches Carisi’s chest. The skin feels wonderfully smooth and warm under his palms. He traces the contours of his muscles with his fingertips.

“Wow.”

Carisi smiles in return. His deep blue eyes sparkle under the praise.

“But I wanna feel you, too.”

With shaky fingers, Carisi untucks Barba’s polo shirt – in a bold move he hadn’t bothered closing the buttons – and pushes it over Barba’s head.

Barba knows that the goosebumps that cover his torso do not come from the sudden exposure of skin to cold air, but from the pure anticipation of being touched by Carisi’s hand.

And then Carisi does just that. His hands wander over Barba’s bare skin. Back, chest, biceps, all the while drawing hungry kisses from his mouth. Gently, Carisi pushes him down onto the bed and lets his mouth continue to do the wandering.

Barba just lies down on his back and closes his eyes.

He cannot believe that with Carisi looking like this and Barba being ten years older plus depriving his body constantly of any sporting activities, it is Carisi who is doing the worshipping.

And it feels _good._

And Barba is happy that Carisi seems to relax while he caresses his body. Carisi’s lips kiss every inch of exposed skin they can find. Teeth scratch lightly over his belly, the tip of the tongue teases his nipples, his belly button in an alluring manner.

Somewhere between all these kisses, they get rid of their socks and pants.

Carisi’s lips find Barba’s again. Their legs entangle. Hips grind against each other, making their erections touch through the damp fabrics of their underwear. Their hips are effectively pressed together more tightly, when Carisi’s hand reaches out to firmly squeeze Barba’s ass.

But his hand doesn’t stay there.

A surprised moan escapes Barba’s lips when Carisi palms him through the fabric of his boxers. They both grin at each other’s lips. Barba decides that it is time to finally do his own admiring, so he slips his hand underneath Carisi’s boxers to get his grip on what Barba can only call the most gorgeous ass he had ever felt.

As a response, Carisi huffs against his lips.

“Is it okay if we take those boxers off?”

Barba had not even finished the question, before Carisi had already taken off his. Barba cannot resist but to curiously look down.

“Oh my god!”

_He really is too good to be true._

“What is it?”

“It’s just… Fuck, you’re hung.” And he has the most beautiful cock Barba had ever seen. “Not every part of you can be perfect.”

Dark red flushes in the most amiable way over Carisi’s pale cheeks. Only his deep blue eyes as they are glowing give away that he is more delighted than actually embarrassed.

“Is it alright if I…?”

“Yes.” Carisi’s answer comes quickly like a shot.

Barba grins. This is good. This feels good. And Barba nearly cannot believe how lucky he is.

Before Barba finally gets his mouth on Carisi, he takes his time to worship. Spreading kisses all over Carisi’s body. Barba cannot help but wonder what it would look like if he sucked the skin a little too long. He is sure that a purple hickey on his pale skin would be an exceptionally good look on Carisi.

When Barba finally arrives at the end of Carisi’s happy trail, he hears Carisi suck in a hard breath. Barba wraps his fingers around Carisi’s dick, but he looks up before he goes any further.

He finds Carisi popped up on his elbows, looking at him in complete awe. His dark, blue eyes full of lust. He nods simply.

So Barba licks along Carisi’s length, gives it a couple of strokes while he kisses the inside of Carisi’s thighs. With the tip of his tongue, Barba tastes the first drops of precum on the tip of Carisi’s dick. Carisi lets out the most beautiful sounds of pleasure that make Barba’s head swim. He doesn’t find it in him to keep teasing so he closes his lips around Carisi with relish.

The moans that escape Carisi’s lips, the feel of the heavy weight on his tongue, the rich taste in his mouth. All these impressions mix up and send shivers down Barba’s spine to his own dick. He accelerates his movements along with Carisi’s accelerating breaths. Barba groans when he feels his mouth filling up with a warm, salty taste.

Barba swallows every drop of it. He slowly kisses his way back up. Along Carisi’s happy trail, his sternum, his neck, following a beautiful red flush that starts on his belly, until Barba’s lips reach Carisi’s face. Carisi who is still breathing heavy. Carisi whose eyes still look awestruck. Carisi who looks fallen apart.

Carisi who catches Barba’s lips in a searing kiss.

“That was so… amazing”, he pants while he pushes Barba back onto the mattress.

Before Barba can reply, it is Carisi who is kissing his way down.

Long fingers tuck into the waistband of Barba’s boxers, move to caress him, and pink lips close around him. For Barba it feels like everything he feels starts and ends with Carisi touching him.

And Barba must say, Carisi with his dick in his mouth is truly an exceptionally good look on him.

Pins and needles dance over Barba’s skin, the tingle they leave behind makes him feel like his skin is burning up. With every stroke of tongue, every bobbing of Carisi’s head, new waves of sensation thrust through Barba’s body, until the feeling explodes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is very light smut, but sometimes we need some romance.
> 
> Again, the idea of Barba watching Carisi cooking something with eggplants (wink, wink) was soul_writerr's idea. The line "Fuck, you're hung. Not everything about you can be perfect." is also coming from her. And we had the idea that Barba is slowly realizing that Carisi is becoming perfect through and through SEPERATELY!
> 
> In Chapter 10 we will pick up where this chapter left off. Again, if you have thoughts, theories and suggestions please share them with me. I love to discuss with you guys!


	10. The moment after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment after and a long conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is beyond late, I'm very sorry for this. I won't bore you with all my rl drama, it would be nothing but excuses. I can only try to consolate you that I'm already working on the next chapter and I hope it'll be up in a couple of weeks.
> 
> Until then you can follow me on Twitter and Tumblr @mforpaul and check out my other work. The final chapter of [Go On, I'll Watch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455459/chapters/43723460) will be up on Sunday.

The staccato of their panting breaths echoes through the otherwise silent bedroom. The sound stands in sharp contrast to the tenderness they had just shared, yet fits so perfectly to their wildly beating hearts.

They lie shoulder to shoulder next to each other. Skin brushes bashfully. Both pairs of their eyes are set towards ceiling, seeing nothing but their blurry vision becoming steady again.

In pieces images of what had just happened flow through Barba’s head. A muscular torso, sweat beads, intense blue eyes. Heartfelt moans. The incredible sensation of being overwhelmed.

Barba closes his eyes. He tries to listen to his body, concentrate on what he is feeling.

His skin still prickles, but oversensitivity has taken over. After the relief his muscles feel strangely weak, like he’s glued to the mattress. He could move but there seems no point.

The sweat on Barba’s skin starts drying into a sticky film. With the heat of the moment fading, the cold is able to touch his skin again.

But Barba doesn’t want the warmth he feels to dwindle.

He hadn’t expected this to happen. No matter how much he had wanted this during those three and a half months he’s known him, he had not expected this. He had thought of this more as a wish than an actual possibility.

Even wanting this in the first place, now after the fact, seems like a foolish thing to do.

In this moment, soft lips find him. Barba feels himself immediately stiffening being torn out of his contemplations so unexpectedly. Shy fingertips push into the flesh of his shoulder, adjusting light pressure to pull him gently against the sweaty body beside him. After a firm but gentle kiss is pressed into the shallow of Barba’s corner of the mouth, a long nose bumps against his cheek.

Barba gives in before he thinks. With his eyes still closed he leans his head against the embrace.

Maybe that is the reason why he feels like a coward. Because he had hoped for this, even more than for the sex. He had hoped that they would linger. If only for a little while. Between sweet dimples and passionate smiles Barba had seriously hoped to find something he hadn’t been looking for. Now, with a heavy arm lying on his chest this hope seems so unreasonable that he doesn’t dare to move, in fear they would suddenly realize that this all is indeed surreal.

“Rafael, you…” A gust of hot breath gasps against Barba’s cheek. “I’m sorry…” Barba hears the grown man snuggling up to him _giggle._ “I just have to say this…” And Barba can literally hear him blush. “You’re _so_ damn sexy.”

The corner of Barba’s mouth, the one that had just been kissed, lifts up into a crooked smile.

“It’s just offensive when you say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen yourself, haven’t you?”

A click of his tongue is the only reply Barba gets besides a heavy limb tangling around his legs. The weight of Carisi’s body embraced around him is basically pinning him down to the mattress and maybe, or so Barba is sure, he had never felt this relaxed before in his entire life.

“That was really awesome.”

Barba hums in response.

Unlike Carisi he doesn’t feel the need to talk about what happened. Possibly because he is afraid that the wonder of the moment would disappear if they’d pinpoint it with words. So quite the opposite, Barba wants to be quiet.

Not just because his mind is very close to drifting off.

“You liked it, too?”

If he hadn’t had his eyes closed, Barba would roll them. The question is beyond ridiculous and this might be the first time that he truly wonders what it is in Carisi that is in need of so much approval.

“Can’t complain.”

“Sometimes you’re mean to me.”

Barba smirks to himself. He concentrates on the heat radiating from Carisi’s body, the heat that seems to cover him like a second embrace in addition to these ridiculously long limbs already clinging onto him.

The heat is twirling into his head, making his eyelids heavy.

The longer they’d lie like this the harder it would be to disengage.

So Barba forces his eyes open and does the only thing that the last conscious part of his mind can think of: He steals himself out of Carisi’s arms.

“How late is it?”

“I absolutely don’t care.”

Barba doesn’t want to, of course, but he sits up. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, turning his back to Carisi and rubs over his face in an attempt to come back to himself. He pretends to search for a clock on the bedside table, even though he doesn’t expect to find one as he thinks that Carisi like every normal person uses his phone for those purposes.

“It must be getting late.”

“There’s dessert.”

Barba turns a little to look at Carisi over his shoulder.

That had been a mistake, because the man in question is still naked and consequently extremely beautiful. He is propped up on one elbow, his chiseled face placed in his open palm. He is grinning at him wholeheartedly, flashing dimples, scarce chest hair, not to mention his dick. Looking like Carisi does, the picture he paints makes Barba’s heart beat too fast so he tries to look away quickly with as much grace as he can.

“Ah, dessert. I should’ve seen that coming.”

“You should have? I’m not sure. Carmen really didn’t give anything away.”

“She didn’t?”

“She just said you eat everything as long as it is made with love.”

Barba doesn’t turn to Carisi, but he knows that the younger man is blushing and quite frankly, he feels the back of his neck burning up, too. So Carmen had told him that she had told Carisi that Barba likes Italian and she had told Carisi that Barba likes everything as long as it is cooked with love. As if that woman had graduated in matchmaking.

“I guess I can still have some.”

“You have to. Took me a while to decide on it.”

“Let me guess, tiramisu?”

Barba hears a ringing laughter behind him and smiles to the warmth swelling in his heart at the sound of it. Still with wobbly legs, Barba gets up and steps awkwardly into his boxers that he had just found next to the bed.

“Too cliché?”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna be too predictable to you.”

Barba looks at him with narrowed eyes, but a smile plays around his lips all the same. While Carisi is surely carrying his heart on his sleeve not to mention immediately telling every word on his mind, nothing about their whole thing had seemed predictable to Barba so far.

“Well, I’m ready to be surprised.”

“I’m overselling it, am I?”

“You do set high expectations about your dessert skills.”

Carisi sits up on the bed. He stretches himself and doesn’t look like he wants to get up at all. He rather reminds Barba of a picture of the former First Dog sitting on a giant pillow. Barba can’t blame him. He himself doesn’t feel like moving away from the comfortable bed at all. He is still standing there in his boxers, one useless sock in his hand while the elegant parquet underneath his bare feet feels unexpectedly soft.

“It’s not like I-“ Carisi with his hand up in the air freezes in his gesture. “Wait. What do you mean you can _‘still’_ have it?”

Barba looks up at him in surprise.

“Why _‘still’?”_

Barba had just found his undershirt and placed it next to the lonely sock on the rim of the bed.

“Uhm?”

Barba turns his palm up to the ceiling in a helpless gesture. He doesn’t really think he needs to explain to the actor, who surely doesn’t look the way he does for no reason, about eating sugar late in the evening.

But Carisi’s next sentence hits him right in the heart.

“You don’t wanna stay?”

Barba keeps his eyes fixed on Carisi. On the man’s beautiful blue eyes that look at him so expectantly. With worry he notices the flashes of hurt along fine facial features.

It hadn’t even occurred to him.

Suddenly his throat tightens.

There is surely no question about what Barba wants.

Even cuddling is nothing more than a distant memory to him, but Barba seriously can’t remember ever having slept in one bed with another person without being drunk. Well, he had. He must have. But it seems like a lifetime ago.

“Sonny…”

Barba simply finds no words. The thought of staying, now that it had occurred to him, makes him feel giddy.

He wants to, he really does.

He wants to spend as much time as possible with this man as he still fears it could trickle like water through his fingers.

Still. The unwanted desire so close in sight, Barba is worried about what it means. Or more so what Carisi will expect as a consequence. It’s one thing to invite someone to your bed, but another thing to invite someone to stay. Does that mean that Carisi trusts him? That would be a mutual feeling and one that Barba can handle. Or does that mean that Carisi means more? Rafael is not sure if he could live up to those expectations. Whatever those expectations are.

Or maybe Rafael is simply embarrassed. Embarrassed that he doesn’t know what it is like to stay the night at his lover’s place. And mostly too embarrassed to admit it.

“Sonny, I-. Don’t get me wrong.”

Barba wants to explain, but he feels like the mere act of explaining is what makes it all feel wrong. It would make it awkward and it really, really shouldn’t be.

“I just, I don’t know.”

“I mean, I think it’d be nice. I’d like it.”

“I just, uh, I didn’t really foresee this… turn of the evening. So I’m not, you know, prepared.”

“I have a spare toothbrush, don’t worry about that.”

“It’s more that I-“

“Plus, if you stayed we could….”

Carisi winks adorably, but Barba slowly shakes his head: “Nothing is tied to conditions.”

“Rafael, we have a good time, right? So… why not keep doing that?”

Barba stands there, half naked in front of Carisi’s bed. He wonders how far away his second sock had gone and he wishes he would have had his back turned to Carisi. Simply for the man not to watch him think.

There is a big lump in his throat.

There is no way to deny the intimacy of… well, of staying. Carisi means his invitation with all its implications. Barba knows it and even more he knows it is stupid. His insecurity. Spending the night doesn’t mean... well, what? It doesn’t mean what? Or what does it mean? What is it that Barba is actually afraid of?

Carisi is right. They are having a good time, there is nothing wrong with that.

In the end, Barba nods. Simply because he doesn’t want to say no.

The lump in his throat dissolves as soon as he sees Carisi’s face beaming up. Carisi crawls across the bed towards him, he sits up on his knees and gives Barba an enthusiastic peck on the lips.

“Fantastic, it’ll be great!”

Carisi’s face is only inches away from Barba’s. The younger man gently squeezes his shoulders. He smiles and Barba’s heart smiles along.

“But don’t think I’m gonna let you miss out on round two.”

Barba thinks that there is something mysteriously sexy in keeping your intentions in the dark, but a shiver runs down his spine all the same.

“From coy to insatiable, you’re really unpredictable.”

Barba rolls his eyes in feigned drama, but finds himself very happy with the prospect of the rest of the evening, or rather night.

Hadn’t he just been worried out of his mind only two seconds ago? Barba should start to seriously wonder what it is in those deep blue eyes that makes all his qualms go away in a heartbeat.

But that’s a worry for another day.

“I’m full of surprises!”

“Based on that parmigiana, I wouldn’t really be surprised about a delicious dessert to be honest.”

“Just wait here, I’m gonna get it.”

Not without another peck on the lips, Carisi breaks away from Barba. He gets up and walks to his closet.

“Dessert in bed?” Barba asks while he is already climbing back on the bed.

On the way to his build-in closet Carisi must have found his underwear, because he puts his boxers back on. Before Barba can strain his neck to look over Carisi’s broad shoulders in hope to get a better glimpse of the man’s wardrobe, something gray is thrown towards him.

Confused Barba inspects the jersey fabric in his hands. It’s a t-shirt, one without any finesse or cut which Barba guesses is Carisi’s way to invite him to be comfortable even though he should know better. For some reason, “Fordham Law” is written in burgundy letters over the chest of the t-shirt.

“Do you need sweatpants?”

Barba tears his eyes away from that horrible but admittedly very comfortable looking t-shirt and widens his eyes in shock.

“Okay, sorry. Stupid thing to ask.” Carisi throws his head back and laughs out loud. Barba immediately thinks that he should spend more time tasting that long neck next time. “You’ll need to stay in your boxers then.”

“Somehow I feel like you’re not that sorry about this.”

“Oh, I’m very fine.”

Carisi closes the sliding door of his closet behind him. His blue eyes sparkle as if the sun had touched the ocean.

In this moment, Barba becomes painfully aware that Carisi intends to stay like this. Bare chested. He is not going to put a shirt back on.

Barba swallows hard.

It really is offensive how attractive Carisi is.

“Wait for me here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Carisi hurries outside of his bedroom and Barba hears him rummaging around in his kitchen.

One last time Barba holds up the t-shirt, inspecting it, before he folds it. In the corner of his eye, Barba had spotted Carisi’s Henley that he had been wearing during their evening lying crumbled up on the floor next to the bed. Without thinking, he puts on the Henley instead.

He gets up from the bed with the folded t-shirt in his hand and slowly walks to the closet.

What can he do? He is just being polite putting the t-shirt back, so he cannot really avoid seeing what else is in the closet. Despite a surprisingly small collection of shirts and suits Barba detects a worryingly big collection of sport clothes including sweatpants, but he closes the doors soon enough worried he might get caught sneaking.

Carisi comes back only minutes later with two plates in his hand.

His mouth twitches blissfully when his eyes catch sight of his own Henley on Barba. But before his delight spreads across his face, Carisi quickly looks away and starts babbling about dessert.

It turns out that the dessert of choice for Barba is a dark chocolate cake with a fluid core and salted caramel sauce at the side. At length Carisi explains to him his philosophy of not adding vanilla to either dark chocolate or caramel and while Barba remembers to compliment him for the incredible taste as well as for putting so much thought into this lovely homemade dessert, he rather concentrates on Carisi’s deep voice rambling on than the actual words leaving his lips.

Carisi sits cross-legged while Barba leans against the soft headboard with his legs stretched out.

Carisi playfully wrinkles his eyes to the shameless moans Barba lets out in response to the sweet sins of chocolate and burned sugar on his tongue as well as to his own frisky comment “My eyes are up here”.

Barba is sure that Carisi himself knows that his own determination not to wear a shirt is the reason for Barba not exactly following their whole conversation. There is no way not to notice Carisi’s intense blue eyes against marble skin and pink lips, but the fine lines drawing his strong chest are without a doubt distracting.

Barba wishes he would be able to say something lyrical about the beauty of his bare torso compared to the beauty of his blue eyes, but as always Carisi leaves Barba strangely tongue-tied.

The evening goes on pleasantly. Right there sitting on the bed. They talk about nothing else than chocolate cake, homemade desserts and Erin Brockovich. Their conversation though is peppered with unnecessary smiles as well as vehemently distracted by quick kisses that turn into longer sessions of making out.

Carisi doesn’t even need an hour to open another bottle of wine and go down on him again. Barba who surely doesn’t feel as young as he used to thinks that it is maybe sheer excitement that gets him going again after such a short time.

After a second piece of chocolate cake around midnight, Barba does use the spare toothbrush and takes a shower in Carisi’s tiny dove blue tiled master bathroom. He uses the other man's shampoo and dries himself with the same towel as Carisi.

The first awkward moment occurs when they lie down to sleep.

Carisi asks him if he is fine with the left side of the bed, probably well knowing that it doesn’t matter on which side of the bed you sleep. Barba after having slept in New York City's tiniest bedrooms with even tinier windows usually facing the inner courtyard for decades feels somewhat uncomfortable about the short distance between the large window facing the big city in Carisi’s bedroom and the left side of the bed. Without forwarding any reason he asks Carisi to switch and this is how he awkwardly slips underneath the giant blanket on the right next to Carisi.

Barba is still (or again) wearing his boxers and Carisi’s Henley. He tries not to be aware of how he moves, hoping that would make him look his usual cool self.

Barba doesn’t really know where to put his limbs. Not just because the soft blanket is extremely large, it is first and foremost just one. Usually Barba wraps his legs around the blanket, but as this tall man next to him will also need some he cannot really do that. He could just entangle one leg with the blanket but then he would need to decide in which direction to turn. He doesn’t really want to turn to Carisi, but he also cannot really turn away from him.

So when Carisi mumbles “sleep well” into the silence of the bedroom, Barba decides to just keep lying on his back. Hoping that the red wine had made his eyelids heavy enough to find sleep even in that unfamiliar position.

“Good night”, Barba whispers back.

He closes his eyes and listens to Carisi’s breathing, trying to find out whether the other man’s heart flutters as much as his own.

He hears fingernails scratch over a slight stubble and then he feels Carisi moving under the blanket.

A heavy arm is again thrown over his chest. Carisi’s hand settles somewhere at the back of his shoulder, effectively holding him close. He presses his long body against Barba’s, resting his forehead against Barba’s throat.

Barba forces himself to breath as calmly as he can. He doesn’t want to give himself away, but in the end he doesn’t know how to react.

Barba clears his throat.

“Uhm. Are we gonna sleep like this?”

“Yes.”

Carisi’s simple answer throws Barba aback for a moment.

“I don’t know if I’m able to fall asleep like this.”

“Just relax.”

Again, Barba feels slightly offended by Carisi’s plain answer as if he is the one being silly. He is trapped underneath an arm after all and Carisi is figuratively and literally a very hot man, so it’s not unreasonable to call this an uncomfortable sleeping position.

Barba takes in a deep breath. Then he thinks again and sighs, pointedly. _No,_ Barba would not make this a big deal.

After a quick deliberation, Barba turns his back to Carisi.

It takes only a few seconds for Carisi to adjust his position and suddenly Barba fits perfectly into the curve of Carisi’s crouched body.

Two, maybe three light kisses are pressed against his shoulder.

And before Barba knows better, he has fallen asleep.

* * *

Barba needs a moment to realize that what had woken him up is a kiss.

The first kiss might have been described as soft, but soon Carisi’s lips explore Barba’s hairline at his neck becoming more demanding in nature. Carisi’s hooked nose presses against the back of his shell of ear and takes in a deep breath.

Barba has no chance.

Before the idea can even occur to him that he probably cannot be very proud of his morning breath, Barba turns around and searches for Carisi’s lips.

His only solace is that Carisi’s breath is in a similar state, but neither one of them minds. Their mouths find each other quickly. Their lips part and their tongues flick. Their moans hide somewhere underneath their heavy breaths that they manage to release through their noses.

As Carisi seriously hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, Barba finds naked skin. Skin that feels incredibly warm so shortly after sleep.

Barba doesn’t even think about opening his eyes.

Their legs entangle and arms wrap around each other. Somewhere between their bodies moving against each other, Barba’s exploring hand finds Carisi’s erection.

The groan that Carisi lets out in response is absolute perfection. This is what makes Barba break the kiss only for a second to slicken his palm with some saliva.

Carisi’s reaction is pure delight. Pure delight that shoots through Barba’s whole body right down to his curled toes.

Long fingers wrap around Barba’s own erection. He again feels his heart skipping a beat at the pure thought of this man touching him, but actually being touched by him makes his head spin. They soon find a rhythm to pump into each other's fists in unison.

A warm prickle flitters through his stomach, slowly spreading through his whole body. It's not just Carisi's wrist working around him, it's also Carisi's kiss that agitates Barba in the most arousing way.

Carisi kisses like a fool.

As if there is no tomorrow, as if there was no yesterday.

Carisi just gives all of himself into the kiss. He licks hungrily into Barba's mouth, he lets himself be bitten gently into his bottom lip, he moans without holding back. And Barba finds himself wanting all of it.

Just when Barba thinks a fire is exploding inside of him, Carisi breaks away. Dumbstruck, Barba's lips follow Carisi's finding thin air.

Barba only opens his eyes when Carisi pants between breaths: "Look at me."

Taken by surprise Barba obeys and ends up looking into the bluest eyes of the world. Watching Carisi reach his climax, being watched, feels too intimate to Barba. But he can't resist.

They both come, gazing into each other’s eyes and breathing the same air.

It takes a while for Barba to come down from his orgasm. The orgasm had been intense, just as the kiss and the eye contact. Everything about the man beside him is intense.

It’s been a while since someone else’s hand had found his dick in the morning, but even more than that everything about the afterglow seems perfect. The warmth underneath the blanket, being surrounded by the sweet scent of the other man and not to forget the beautiful mess on Barba’s hand.

Carisi offers some wet wipes from the drawer of his bedside table and when Barba has cleaned up the biggest part of the mess, he spares a look to the man beside him.

Carisi looks stunningly beautiful.

His bright blue eyes are fixed on him, a satisfied smile plays around his lips. He has one elbow angled with a hand buried in his hair.

Barba realizes now that Carisi’s hair has more gray strains than his usually styled coif allows itself to reveal. The undone hair is a very attractive look on him, one that Barba wishes to see more. But what Barba likes the most is that Carisi’s eyes are a little swollen from the long night of sleep behind him.

This is when Barba realizes that his own hair is undone, too. He can barely catch himself before his hand shoots up trying to tame his hair. He usually doesn’t need much time in the bathroom in the mornings, but Barba contributes this more to practice than innate handsomeness.

Even though it is quick, Barba does have a morning routine. And not just that there is usually no one there during this routine, certainly no one has seen him before.

“You look so soft.”

Barba feels himself blushing but he cannot tear his eyes away from Carisi.

“And very, very beautiful.”

It takes a long time for his smile to reach his lips. Barba feels like his chest is blossoming and tightening at the same time. Carisi is so genuinely sweet.

Carisi must have seen the struggle in his face, because he asks: “What is it?”

“It’s just a lot.”

“I’m sorry. Rafi, I know I can be too much. Just that-”

“No.”

“I-“

_“No!”_

In a quick movement, Barba hovers himself over Carisi. He huffs a quick kiss onto Carisi’s lips to silence him.

“No. It’s me. I’m… screwed up apparently. _You_ are perfect.”

Barba doesn’t know where this statement comes from but the response displays obviously in Carisi’s softening features.

Carisi himself had looked incredibly soft already, so Barba doesn’t understand how the man can soften even more.

Carisi doesn’t answer though, he just gives Barba a small smile. And he looks at Barba with the deepest blue eyes in the world, totally awe-struck.

* * *

Carisi prepares the both of them a nice breakfast that they have at the little kitchen table, not in bed.

When they had finally gotten up, Barba had realized astounded that they had spent around twelve to thirteen hours in that bed. Together with his heart, Barba must have apparently lost his mind because he cannot remember ever having wasted so much of his time.

The weirdest thing is that they had both left the bed reluctantly. Actually, the only thing that had made them get up had been Carisi’s disappointed announcement that while he wouldn’t need to work today, he would need to work out.

The breakfast includes smoked salmon on an avocado salad, almond milk, sliced fruits and raw vegetables. Goat’s cheese, homemade jam and whole-wheat bread. Barba guesses that the second part of the breakfast is meant for him while the first part is meant to keep up Carisi’s physique.

“It all looks very healthy.”

“I do what I can.”

“Oh, it works.”

They both laugh at each other, but Carisi’s face soon takes on a more serious expression. Barba patiently takes a sip of the delicious coffee that he thinks Carisi to have prepared extra strong for him.

As expected, Carisi cannot wait long to spit out what is on his heart.

“Rafael, uh, I think we should spell out the obvious.”

Barba tilts his head, quite frankly not knowing about the obvious thing that needs to be spelled out.

“I don’t know how you see this, but I like you very much.” The pink blush spreads across Carisi’s face together with his sheepish smile. “I guess you have gathered this much, right? Uhm.” Carisi coughs lightly into his fist. “And after last night, I’d say this is something… you know, real.”

Barba’s heart drops. His obvious unease with talking about his feelings cannot deny his relief to actually talk about it. Because it means mainly one thing: Barba wouldn’t need to wonder anymore.

“Rafi?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s just that this is the part of the conversation where you say something.”

“You didn’t ask a question.”

“Still, there’s more than enough room for you to reply.”

“I think I need a question.”

Carisi shakes his head and Barba fears for a moment that his reaction to all this is at last a little too juvenile. Carisi closes his eyes, but in the end he talks.

“Not that there’s any rush to give it a word, nevertheless… I’d feel better if we did. So I guess I’m trying to ask you what we're doing?”

Barba again doesn’t say a word.

“It’s just the position that I’m in with standing in the spotlight and everything. It’s not always easy and as you do important work, we should be on the same page. This is why I wanna discuss. Even though it’s early.”

Barba notices that Carisi notices that he is rambling, because the man opposite him stops short only to keep on rambling.

“I mean I’d like to call this a relationship. Even though we haven’t discussed about telling anyone which is the next thing we should do. Discussing, I mean. Not telling anyone. I think we're not just dating.” Sitting a little lost at his kitchen table in boxers and a t-shirt, Carisi takes in a deep breath. "Okay, this is silly. But it's just how I feel, I mean…"

Barba feels that this is the moment where he should finally say something.

He swallows because his throat feels dry.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Not exactly the enthusiasm I would’ve expected.”

“I agree. I think the act of excitement lies in there.”

“Okay.” Carisi considers Barba for a moment, then shakes his head. “Anyway, I wanna add that I consider us exclusive. I don't know if that's obvious or not.”

Before Barba even has the state of mind to grasp what this means for him, he feels extremely flattered and uplifted that Carisi actually wants to commit himself solely to Barba.

Barba is surely someone who values his independence, which might be another reason why he hadn’t entertained any long-term dalliances in his life. He had come to think of monogamy as something primitive, even more so something simple-minded that might have worked in ancient times but surely not today. Barba had always thought himself to stand above the concept by pure logic.

But now, sitting at the cherry wood kitchen table in Manhattan with the nicest man in the world he feels so warm from the inside at the thought that this man sitting opposite him wants no one else than Barba that he easily forgets his believes.

It feels good.

So Barba nods.

“Do you agree? Rafi, it’s a little weird that you just stare and nod.”

Barba could just catch himself, say everything is alright but he guesses that Carisi deserves better than this. With a heavy breath Barba decides to tell the truth.

“As I've already hinted, uh, it’s fair to say that I never really had a longer relationship.”

Barba immediately regrets having said so. How can he admit so much insecurity? So unsolicited particularly?

“So, this is all not easy for me.”

“Is it alright though?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Barba is sure that his voice sounds a little hoarse. “You might just need to be a little patient with me.”

"I can do that. No problem."

Carisi nods and must (rightly) decide to save Barba from further embarrassment.

"And as we're exclusive, we could… you know, make sure we're healthy."

It's nearly charming how Carisi's face turns dark red at his own suggestion. Barba needs to bite back a smile because he finds Carisi all too cute.

And just like that some of the tension in his chest loosens up.

"Yes. I think this is a good idea."

And there it is. The smirk finds his lips and the sparkle his eyes. Carisi answers him with a small pout that shows both his own unease about the question as well as his relief about Barba's reaction.

“Have you told anyone so far?”

“Uh, no. Not really.”

“I gotta be honest with you. If you don’t want people to know, you actually shouldn’t tell anyone. I mean, except people you really trust.”

Barba nods.

“Because be sure, people will ask you. The trial was very popular. My show's at its high. Maybe you can ignore those tweets, but eventually someone will ask. Also me. So what should I say?”

Barba’s throat tightens thinking about all the implications this would have for his job. Even though his spotlight is reduced to the times he gives interviews on court steps, there would be consequences for him if the people in the courtroom know who he is seeing.

“Saying nothing sometimes says more than just making a statement.”

Barba pushes his fork into a chunk of avocado and thinks. While they had taken things really slow since the end of the trial, Barba feels like they are now taking around seven steps at once.

“I don’t wanna talk about my private life with the public.”

“Okay.”

“Yet.”

“We’re on the same page.”

“Uh. Have you told anyone?”

“Just my sisters. I cannot really keep anything from them.”

Barba nods.

“But you should really be careful about who to tell if we wanna keep this private. So, uh, I don’t know if you realized but people on Twitter went crazy after our dates. We should be careful, next time we go out.”

“Actually, Sonny.” Barba shifts his weight on his chair. “Not that I’m not enjoying our dates, I do very much! But still, you don’t have to try so hard. I mean, _this.”_ Barba lets out a breath from the depth of his chest. “You and me. This is all I want.”

Carisi smiles and as always his smile lights up the whole room.

“Preferably there to be honest.” With his head Barba points into the direction of the bedroom and Carisi has to laugh.

He looks so sweet that Barba just wants to reach out his hand and touch him.

“Yeah, this is what I'd like, too.”

Carisi's smile is simply heartwarming. _He looks so happy_ , Barba thinks, _with so little._

He is so sweet that Barba's stupid heart pounds like mad. For a short moment, the thought shoots through his head to propose to forget about this luxurious breakfast and just go back to bed. But Barba dismisses his own silliness as quickly as it had come to his mind.

Although, with one last deep breath Barba decides to use the new nature of their relationship and give into his urge.

So Barba covers Carisi's hand with his and leans in close to place a light kiss on one of those dimples.

Impossible as it is for Barba to move away, he leans his forehead against Carisi's graying temple.

Carisi says nothing.

He just closes his eyes and stays as still as possible.

So they sit like this and enjoy each other's for a while.

* * *

"I hate needing to throw you out."

With a big sigh Carisi reaches for his keys. He is freshly shaved with undone hair in boring workout clothes.

Barba lingers awkwardly in front of the door, waiting for Carisi so they can leave the building together.

It's unbelievable how much Barba doesn't want to leave.

On second glance, Carisi looks incredibly sexy in this tight t-shirt and whole lot of strains falling into his forehead. He even likes those well-worn sweatpants as they obviously demand to be taken off immediately.

Barba looks up into Carisi's face, but the friendly grin on the other man's face does nothing to change his mind.

And the words are again on the tip of his tongue.

He considers Carisi for a moment and decides that he needs to give himself a good memory to cling to until he will see him again. Especially as their schedules suggest this won't happen during the next week.

So Barba fists Carisi's t-shirt and pulls the younger man into a searing kiss with the intention to show him that he's not the only one who knows how to kiss.

His desperate sigh when they break apart tells Barba that he had indeed kissed Carisi thoroughly out of his mind.

And Barba is quite pleased with himself.

But he will still miss him.

And once more, Barba wants to say it.

_Forget your workout. Call it off. Let's just go back to bed and stay there_.

But he doesn't dare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone thank Bianca as she is responsible for me adding 750 words to this, especially in the smut and last fluff section.
> 
> Thanks to Kat for having the idea with the big breakfast after, although idk if that's what she had in mind.
> 
> Thanks to Rahel for discussing Barba's feelings when he wakes up next to Carisi with me.
> 
> Thanks to Cy's tweet encouraging me to include the conversation about them being exclusive.
> 
> With that all being said I'm extremely grateful for everyone who follows this as I happen to be very proud of this monster fic. Next chapter will include some hurt/comfort. See you soon, take care!


	11. I don't know what I'm doing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY you guys had to wait so long for the update, I will do better next time. Anyway, I'm so thankful for everyone who is still with me. There's a lot of work in this, so the best motivation for me to keep going is if you leave a comment 🙃 but thank you guys so much anyway❣
> 
> Special thanks for this chapter goes to Bianca, Rahel, Lore, Kat, the British Jess, the American Jess and Chey!

The first time someone asks him is exactly three days later.

He has just indicted Kavanaugh and is standing on the steps of the courthouse trying not to look as smug as he feels.

“What do you say to the accusations that you only indicted because of public pressure?”

“Don’t you think calling him a 'monster' destroys his chances of a fair trial?”

“… special treatment because he’s a celebrity?”

A little breeze of approaching summer air brushes through his hair. The cool air provides a welcome contrast to the heated emotions whirling around him. Just as his boss had requested Barba is answering every single one of the questions that the press throws at him with forced friendliness and serenity.

Barba has never had much patience for newsmakers. They write the story the way they wish anyway. Which doesn’t mean he doesn’t see the importance in trying to pull them on his side. He simply prefers to convince with his legal wit instead.

After half an hour of repeating the same answers to different questions Fin puts a hand on Barba’s back. The Sergeant had been standing next to him this entire time in his all black clothes, his hands clasped in front of him. He hadn’t had the need to say anything anyway, but Barba still cannot be sure if Fin had even blinked. _Maybe they think he’s my bodyguard_ , Barba thinks. One way or the other, Barba is extremely grateful for the way out Fin offers. Finally.

“Thank you, I think I have said it all by now. If you have any more questions, please feel welcome to contact the DA’s office. Thank you.”

As soon as Barba turns to Fin to respond with a short nod, the mumbles of "Twitter bullies”, “witness credibility” and “lack of evidence” turn into an inconsistent wall of chatter, it sounds almost like the humming of a bee hive.

In this mess, he hears the question all the same. Barba had already started to filter out the chaos around him and concentrate on finding his way to walk past the crowd, when the question of a single female voice hits him.

“Are you going out with Sonny Carisi, Mr. Barba?”

The humming continues. Light flashes at him, microphones are stretched out in his direction.

The right thing to do would be to continue walking, maybe turn around to Fin to ask him something that could wait until later only to show the press that he hadn’t heard what he had heard.

In his terror though Barba stops. He turns around and looks against the wall of microphones, cameras and flashlights. There is no way to make out who had asked the question, and maybe the majority of those people simply hadn’t caught this single question among all those others. For whatever reason, probably simply because Barba is facing them again, the humming quiets down, patiently awaiting for him to talk.

Where his brain had failed him earlier, it now makes a quick decision to pretend like he had wanted to turn around all along. He tightens the grip around his briefcase, fixes the expression on his face and lifts one finger: _Ah, right, what I forgot to say._

“I won’t comment on personal questions, so I’d appreciate if you’ll forego asking them in the first place.”

Carisi would later compliment him for his reaction. Barba in turn feels like there is nothing to compliment on.

The bitter taste of failure on his tongue makes Barba turn around on the spot and walk away hurriedly with Fin right upon his heels. They continue with easier steps after they pass around the first corner. Both men stay in silence until they approach the point where their paths to either the DA’s office or the precinct part.

“I know I’m probably not the one to ask to talk. But despite the fact that you can, I’m gonna give you my unsolicited advice here.” He feels Fin sending him a sidelong look while Barba keeps stubbornly staring down on the sidewalk somewhere in front of him. “They won’t judge, if you don’t give a shit.”

Barba turns his face to the Sergeant considering him for a long surprised moment. Not that Fin, as he had rightly pointed out, is a talker but Barba had omitted any conversation on purpose in order to hold up the impression that there is nothing to talk about.

Now all sorts of questions shoot through his head. What it was like for him and his son to be publicly with a man? If he thinks that Barba was stupid, being with a man like him? And he really wants to know if Fin’s unsolicited little advice stems from experience?

Barba doesn’t ask any of these questions of course. Even though he is sure that Fin would meet his concerns with calmness and kindness and as his silent nature suggests without judging. Still, Barba just nods and sends him a thankful smile.

* * *

For the mere reason of playing out some time before returning to his office, Barba queues up at the end of a ridiculously long line of one of those coffee chains he pretends to hate. In reality, they hide extremely delicious coffee under the disguise of maybe fancy, but honestly stupid names.

It’s two weeks later and he had just left the first day of court in the Kavanaugh case behind himself. He checks his phone a couple of times, thinking about texting Carisi. Barba knows that he is shooting so he decides to postpone contacting him until the evening when they would hopefully find fifteen minutes to talk on the phone before being too tired.

With a sigh he puts the phone back into his pocket.

The line shouldn’t be this long considering the prices this place asks for but Barba finds himself not to mind. As so often these days since him and Carisi had become a couple, which is still a foreign concept to Barba, he likes these moments off, somewhere swallowed in the anonymous crowd where he can just let his mind wander. Wander back to Carisi's apartment, straight into his bed.

Because this is where they spend most of their time together. Carisi still puts immense care into preparing lovely dinners for Barba, an effort that doesn’t last until breakfast which is usually rushed at best due to both of their work responsibilities and maybe to some smaller part due to Barba’s less than bright mood in the morning. No matter how, mornings (and evenings) are usually spent doing more kissing than not, so it’s not like Barba needs to pull off any articulateness. Which doesn’t mean he doesn’t like spending a small part of their dates complaining to an eagerly listening Carisi about the audacities of defense attorneys.

One way or the other, no matter how great the food is, they usually barely make it through dinner until they stumble over pants around their ankles into the bedroom, rather preferring to spend their evening wrapped between bed sheets. And not to rely on cliché, but their mouths are then preoccupied otherwise.

“Mocchacino, venti, with soy milk, sugar free hazelnut syrup and an extra shot of espresso, please. And cream on top.”

The tiny barista with her afro and nerdy glasses lets her marker speed over the paper cup. While waiting with the questionable excitement of finding out whether she had put the crosses at the right places, Barba distantly thinks that he should finally start using those thermos cups that various people had given him on various holidays as there is apparently nothing else (except Scotch, or worse Rum) that comes to people’s minds when they want to gift something to Barba.

They are right of course for environmental reasons which doesn’t mean that Barba is not extra flattered by all the consideration that Carisi puts into his, well, romance. Not even Barba's brain can deny that this is the right word to use.

 _It's just frustrating_ , Barba thinks when he puts a ten dollar bill on the counter. It's frustrating to feel frustrated about his own fortunate situation.

Maybe it would be fair to say that Carisi does go easier on wooing Barba now as he had really taken Barba’s words to his heart and his apartment is now the place where they meet. Which doesn’t mean that Carisi still isn't trying too hard. Not that Barba could admit he didn’t like that. Carisi always has something up his sleeve, something extremely thoughtful. It’s not just a bottle of wine or candles or dinner. It’s Cuban wine, the candles are the ones from “Mare” where they had their first date and dinner, well, Carisi’s food is always special.

Barba doesn’t know if he had ever known a person this attentive to him and quite frankly, Barba doesn’t know how he deserves this. It’s not like Barba feels bad for all the attention he receives, he really sees nothing wrong with that. It’s just that they had reached the point where Barba shouldn’t just sit back and enjoy. Not to be misunderstood, Barba realizes that Carisi shows no sign of wishing that anything would change between them. He is extremely happy giving and not asking for anything in return. And this shouldn’t make Barba as nervous as it does.

Carefully, Barba sups the cold cream away from the top of his overpriced coffee. Now free of its crowning he can stir a package of brown sugar into the beverage with one of those wooden sticks that Barba finds secretly disgusting. He takes a sip from the coffee before putting the plastic cap on the cup. There’s too much syrup inside and he’s pretty sure that the extra shot of espresso is truly only half a shot. But Barba decides that these young baristas behind the counter don’t need a middle aged nuthead with dubious problems about the sudden existence of his love life complaining while all they do is try to keep their student loans at bay.

Barba steps out of the coffee shop with the hot beverage in his hand and as so often since the morning they had the talk he tries to feel if anything is different, now that he belongs to someone. Maybe people see a difference in him, in the way he walks or breathes the air. Maybe New York tastes different, maybe things look differently.

Truth is, he feels exactly the same, despite maybe the tiny ache that tells him that he is constantly missing someone.

He knows that Carisi doesn’t expect two hundred red roses or chains of restaurants shut down. Theirs is not a game of competition or emulation by any means. Neither one of them are beholden to the ridiculous thought of being compelled to repeat earlier dates in either pomposity or sentiment. They, and maybe Carisi more than Barba, know it's the gesture or better the meaning underneath the gesture that makes the other one happy. It's about a genuine thought, an idea that shows how much he cares.

It doesn’t sound very hard, but Barba repeatedly comes up empty. And he knows that this is actually not a lack of caring.

* * *

"Look, your Prince Charming is on."

Detective Rollins offers nothing less than a shit-eating grin when she points her index finger on the screen behind Barba. He doesn't need to turn to hear that the news channel that is turned on is showing a clip of a press conference of Carisi's show where the actor answers a question about Harvey's conviction.

It's only three weeks since Kavanaugh's indictment and SVU's department has been flooded with more accusations of sexual assault. Barba has joined the detectives to have a look at the cases, trying to decide whether or not to add more offences to the prosecution.

His retort comes in a split of a second in the form of a raised eyebrow.

"Jealous, Detective?"

For a moment, Rollins looks taken aback, but then she throws her thin blonde hair over her shoulder for a ringing laughter.

"Gosh no!" Rollins sends a quick look skywards when she vehemently shakes her head. “Too Vanilla.”

Barba looks her straight in the eyes and lifts the corner of his mouth into a crooked smirk. Sure, Carisi’s angelic face and mostly his image doesn’t suggest otherwise, but Barba knows better. In bed, he knows Carisi to like hickeys, Spanish dirty talk and clear instructions. And the future has yet to show what he likes beyond that.

"Although…" She also raises her eyebrow in an attempt at a dirty look. "If he really shuts down restaurants for dates, I might reconsider."

Barba considers her for a while with a tilted head. Then he sends her a wry, maybe a rather doleful smile. "You better not. Too much romance is not your type."

Detective Amaro who is sitting next to her levels his gaze looking neither at Barba nor Rollins.

"I don't know what we should do with the accusations on Twitter, to be honest." Amaro turns the display of his phone to Barba, showing him a couple of #MeToo tweets. Or so Barba guesses, not that his eyesight would ever allow him to decipher something this small over the distance of a conference table. "Some of these are pretty specific and the users even use their real names sometimes. It's our duty not to ignore them."

Barba takes a few minutes to explain Amaro on which side the law stands there. How far the NYPD’s duties go and how useful tweets as evidence are. A few minutes too many, but he's not the only one who likes to hear himself talk.

Towards the end of the meeting, his phone rings indicating an incoming message. Barba checks it casually. He has learned by now to keep up a stern expression even when the sender of the message turns out to be Carisi.

[ _My sis sent me this meme of a grumpy cat. Reminded me of you_ 😚]

Attached there's a gif of a fluffy, silver cat with viridian eyes shying away from a child's hand, looking, well, grumpy.

He couldn't help but smile. On the inside only of course.

Barba puts his phone away without answering. It's not like he couldn't come up with some snippy answer, his eloquence would never fail him there, but he feels himself unable to respond with even a friction of the sap that this man has implanted in him.

They hadn't seen each other for a week and Carisi had family commitments on the weekend which is why he is not going to invite him back to his apartment until Tuesday evening.

Carisi had asked him what to cook. A question that had Barba completely thrown off his game. He knows that Carisi had simply asked out of his presumptuous understanding of what romance means. He probably thinks he needs to make up for them not meeting up more often. All the same, considerations like these push Barba to the wrong side of giddy.

Usually, if someone asks him what he wants to eat, he can think of a specific dish in one of his favorite restaurants or take-out places. And while Carisi had encouraged him that he is willing to take on any challenge competing with any sort of sentimental food, all that Barba had been able to think about was that he hadn't eaten home-cooked meals since the death of his grandmother.

And still, he doesn't know why a simple question like this makes him feel like a fish out of water.

"I don't know, maybe we need to look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow."

With a sigh Liv throws a casefile onto the table in front of her. Barba can basically feel her headache behind his own forehead.

"I agree. We won't reach any conclusions tonight."

Apparently, this is the cue that the squad had needed to get up. Stretching limbs, checking phones and mumbling goodbyes, everyone soon moves towards the exit with Barba, the one with the quickest step, leading them.

Right behind him is Amaro who taps him on the shoulder. “No puedes esperar a tu galán, compay.”

Barba, who might have taken an extra quick step because his mind had already been back to thinking about a reply that would come somewhere near sweet, just turns to Amaro with a big sigh. Not that Amaro ever teases him about anything but Barba is not at all in the mood for this tonight. He has reached the time of the day where he starts to get sick and tired of hearing about people getting sexually assaulted and all he wants to do right now is get home and text with his… galán.

“No todos somos tan afortunados como tú, que no tienes que ir lejos.”

Before Amaro can answer with any more than a tense smile, Rollins shouts out behind them.

"Hey listen to this!" Barba turns his head to see her with her phone in her hand, reading a tweet out loud: " _Too bad Sonny's no key witness here. Team #Barisi would have him behind bars in no time_." She starts laughing and Amaro joins hesitantly. "That fucking hashtag. Cracks me up every time."

* * *

Barba opens the knot of his tie the second he walks into his apartment.

He loves his suits, they are well chosen companions of his everyday life, but sometimes they become too tight.

The Kavanaugh case is slowly becoming mudslinging and Barba happens to be right in the middle of it. The extra bright spotlight on this case magnifies the stress that puts pressure on all participants with Barba feeling like he’s carrying the lion’s share. This is how his tie starts tightening too closely around his neck.

Here and now, Barba slums down on his couch and wants nothing else than a Scotch. Fitting his forehead between two fingers he tries to rub some of the tension of the day away.

There is actually something that would help him much more than a Scotch, someone.

Over the last month they had seen each other three times. Neither of their busy schedules allowing much time for one another. Or better say, Carisi is the busy one. Despite coming home late, Barba actually would be free basically every evening. Or at least, he has nothing to do after work that would be so important that he couldn’t reschedule.

With a sigh, Barba gets up and strips off his clothes. He usually likes to shower in the mornings to get himself woken up for the day, but he needs to get rid of the feeling of all those eyes set on him.

Carisi comes up every now and then in his new case. Barba guesses it’s only logical. The similarities between the cases are striking and he himself keeps bringing up the former Harvey case in his favor as it had ended up in a successful conviction.

However, he still cannot believe anyone had asked him about Carisi. In that way. Barba is less shocked about the lack of piety than the actual amount of time that had passed. When Barba had been asked one month ago, the trial had been over for more than six weeks. Even those cozy snapshots should have been long forgotten in the depths of Twitter by then. But still they had been clear enough in people’s heads to prompt an inappropriate question at a spontaneous press conference.

 _Fifteen minutes of fame my ass_ , Barba thinks.

Don’t they say in these post-postmodern times of the internet everything has become momentary? No one holds the actual paper in their hands, feels the sensitive texture between their fingers. There is no physical place where a photograph could linger. Nowadays a picture is forgotten the moment it is tweeted. With the exception of Barba’s, so it seems.

He guesses the reasons must lie somewhere in the popularity of Carisi’s stupid TV show and especially in the talent of its PR department that knows how to make people keep talking about him. And again, given the many parallels of both cases and their connection to the #MeToo movement, it is only natural that Barba’s and Carisi’s names are brought up together.

But quietly Barba fears that the stamina of those Twitter users is the real reason why the Barisi hype doesn’t fade away. Barba checks the hashtag less often by now, but he is still shocked by the amount of hits. And Barba is not sure whether he actually fears that those shippers won’t see what he is afraid to find in those pictures.

He had told no one of course, especially not his mother and Liv who pointedly says nothing. He had considered anyone really, just to tell someone, if only for the simple sake of being able to call anyone to go out for a drink when he doesn't feel like sleeping in his own bed instead of Carisi's. But he had been stuck at the question of who would not smirk or scrunch their nose.

Barba had contemplated a long time whether he should talk to McCoy about the hashtag. After all, among all the worries he has about _this,_ his relationship, Barba feels like this is the one he could actually tackle, his professional reputation. Barba had thereby been very torn in between Carisi’s advice to just make a statement in order to quiet down the worries or Fin’s advice to act like there is nothing to worry about. Barba sees the beauty of both advices and while he considers each of them equally true, he is not sure which one to apply to his situation.

Barba is still in his bedroom picking his ears with a towel to get the water out when he hears his phone ring in the other room. He has already switched into his comfortable clothes, the warm water has done its deeds to his muscles and therefore Barba doesn’t feel very excited about anyone who would call that late.

All the more surprised he is when he reads “Sonny” on the screen. Usually, their phone calls are kept short, leaving them not much more time than just telling each other about their day. They had talked briefly in the morning, so Barba was not expecting him to call again.

“Hey!”

“Rafi, hi. How are you?”

“Ugh, I just came home half an hour ago. Kavanaugh’s really trying to pull off that ‘a woman’s body has its ways to shut down’ shit.”

Barba walks around the couch towards the window, waving his arms in the air with gestures so big he wouldn’t dare to use in public.

“What?”

“I know, right?”

“How’s he supposed to pull that off? I mean, you can assume the jurors didn’t receive the best sex ed, but that’s obviously bullshit.”

“Buchanan found an expert.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Look, don’t worry. Warner will shut him up before he can even say ‘consensual’. Still, it gives me a headache that I’m forced to even pretend to take this garbage seriously.”

His sympathetic nervous system starts responding to the memories of the day and Barba feels the anger returning into his chest. He clings onto the phone a little tighter and breathes a little deeper. He wants to put this behind himself for tonight.

“I’m sure you got this.”

“Aw, this would mean so much more to me if you weren't already worshipping me unconditionally.”

“Not, unconditionally.” Carisi lets out a small chuckle. “But you are pretty great in court, so…” Barba hears distant rustling on the phone, probably Carisi finding a more comfortable position. “Actually, I’d love to watch you again.”

“Technically, you can.” Barba pinches his nose. He really doesn’t want to talk about work anymore, this is not what Carisi is there for. “Actually, it’d probably even help the case. It would give us a lot of sympathy if you’d be there for support.”

“Wouldn’t it be weird if I show up to support you?”

“To support us, not me. You’re a nice guy, people would believe you if you’d showed up just to support the issue.”

“Well, I would!”

“And to stare at my ass.”

Carisi lets out a groan. “Can you blame me?”

“Actually, yeah. You should’ve seen me fifteen years ago.”

“Oh, believe me. I wish I could have.”

Barba smiles. He puts one hand on the windowsill and looks out of his living room window at the brick wall of the inner courtyard. Rain falls down from the gray sky in thin strings. It’s ridiculous how warm his chest feels all of a sudden.

He surely wishes so, too.

“But let’s not talk about work, shall we?”

“Okay, as you wish.”

There is a pinch of hesitation in Carisi’s voice and in this moment it occurs to Barba that he is probably not calling for no reason. If he’d had something romantic on his chest, Carisi would have said so by now or just send a text message. So the only reason that comes to Barba’s mind is that something has come up and Carisi wants to postpone their upcoming date.

“So, you good?”

“Yeah.”

Carisi says the word with a somewhat heavy heart and Barba understands from this that Carisi might have wanted to talk about something, his work maybe and this only solidifies his worry.

“Something you wanted to tell me?”

“Nah.” Carisi pauses for a moment. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

As weird as it feels that he had chosen him as the person to reach out to, Barba immediately senses that this is what Carisi is doing. The sentence could be easily dismissed as an overly romantic sentiment. Even though Carisi is maybe even going for that, Barba instinctively knows that he is saddened.

“Did something happen?”

“Uh.” He basically hears the hesitation in Carisi’s voice and opens his mouth to say something to encourage him. But Carisi speaks, before the words find Barba. “My dad’s in the hospital.”

“Oh.”

It is weird for Barba to think of Carisi in terms of someone who has a father. Of course, Barba very well knows that Carisi has a big family whose ties are tight. When he is not working, he is usually meeting up with them. Barba had soon understood that these are the two priorities keeping Carisi from seeing him. But Barba hasn’t heard about the specifics before. Or maybe he hasn’t listened close enough.

“Is it something serious?”

“I don’t know. I mean, they don’t know. This is why they keep him at the hospital overnight.”

“Why is he in the hospital in the first place?”

“He passed out and fell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t hit anything, but they don’t know why he passed out. You know, he just turned seventy. At his age, it could be anything.”

“Right.”

Barba looks skywards into the cloudy night sky. He is not a doctor, so he cannot really tell him the odds about it being nothing and he doesn’t know how responsible it would be to say so anyway.

“I didn’t want to go to the hospital. You know, in case someone gets wind of it. I just don’t wanna put any spotlight on my family. Especially when someone’s sick.”

“Ah, I get that.”

“Yeah. Sucks, right?”

“Sonny, I know. But I really think you’re doing the right thing.”

“It’s probably nothing anyway. But I’m worried, I wish I could be there.”

“Is someone with him?”

“Yeah, my family’s there. They’ll stay the night.”

“And is someone with you?”

“Uh. No.” Carisi sighs. “Ma cannot leave dad. So Teresa has to stay, too, she’d never leave Ma’s side. So that means Mia needs to be there, too. Gina offered to come over, but I made her stay to look out for them. And Bella needs to stay home anyway ‘cause of Lisa and I didn’t want to go over, because Tom has to be home after ten. They have enough on their plates without me. So…” Carisi lets out a heartfelt sigh.

Barba shakes his head slightly. He doesn’t know who any of these people are and quite frankly he doesn’t care as much as he should. But Barba thinks that he can do that. All he would need to do is listen, say something consolidating and if Carisi would be in the mood for a comforting BJ, all the better.

“If you want to, you know, I could come over.”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, is it alright if I come to your place?”

Barba ducks his head and looks around.

“I mean, I don’t wanna impose. But I kinda wanna get away from all this tonight.”

Barba lets his eyes trail over his living area. There are books, law books and novels as well, scattered on every surface, but Barba decides that this is not the problem. It’s rather the empty take-out box from the day before he should get rid of.

“Yeah, sure. You can come over any time you want.”

“If I call a car, I think I can be there in twenty?”

Barba swallows hard. “Okay.”

“I mean, if it’s fine?”

“Yeah, sure. It is. Very much.”

The first thing Barba decides to do is open the window. It’s chilly outside, but he guesses that fresh air is the more pressing issue.

“Is there anything you need? That I can buy on the way?”

“Not really. Just come over.”

Barba walks over to the tiny table at the window that he sometimes uses as a desk and clicks on the button of the vacuum robot that is parked underneath, being completely thankful to whoever had thought of inventing that little helper.

“I hope you don’t think I’m creepy, but I got your address from Carmen.”

“You were contemplating sending me more flowers?”

“Some of my cannoli, to be honest.”

Carisi lets out a bashful laugh and Barba can basically hear him blush. It is a little creepy, but he is very sweet.

“Okay then, see you in a bit.”

“Okay. And thank you.”

Barba had already hung up the phone.

He’s extremely happy that he had already had a shower, because that would have been the top of his priorities.

He quickly walks into his bedroom, opens the window there, too, and changes his sheets, cursing when he realizes that his finer ones are in the hamper.

Afterwards he rushes into his little kitchen. He unloads the dishwasher that had been full of clean dishes for probably a week and quickly puts the few dirty plates from the sink inside. He quickly cleans over the countertop with a cloth, not that it needs much cleaning as Barba likes tidiness.

This is why he only needs to collect a few paper towels in the living room and to refold a blanket on the couch.

Just when he is thinking about whether he has time to put out the trash, his doorbell rings.

Barba quickly stops his Roomba and closes the windows after he buzzes Carisi in. While he waits for Carisi to come up, Barba looks around. But there is nothing more that he can do.

When Carisi appears in his door, he looks tired and very undone. The way his hair falls into his forehead is just adorable, the more than simple outfit of a black t-shirt and denims does everything to underline the man’s beauty and his lips seem incredibly pink against the pale skin. Looking like he does the tiredness around his eyes take the backseat.

Barba is a little surprised when Carisi, instead of their usual arousing kiss, greets him with a profound hug. He just falls into Barba’s arms and for a second, Barba worries if he can carry the weight. But Carisi wraps his long arms firmly around Barba’s middle and buries his nose in the crook of Barba’s neck.

They don’t say a word for a few minutes and Barba realizes that this is what he had wanted all along, Carisi in his arms.

“You’re not going to cry, are you?”

Carisi lets out a little chuckle, the warm breath tickles against Barba’s neck. “No, I’m just… it sucks.” Carisi pulls back and with a little smile on his lips takes a moment to look Barba in the eyes. “But I’m glad to see you. This is what I needed tonight.” He cups Barba’s face and plants a small kiss onto his lips.

“Well, if this is how I can help you, I’m more than happy to.” Barba takes a step back, but keeps contact by holding Carisi’s hand. “Let’s get comfortable then.” He gestures towards his small couch, before he realizes that he should at least try to be a good host. “Uh, do you want to drink something? I don’t have beer though.”

“No, thanks. And to be honest, this is not the right time for alcohol.”

“Okay.”

Barba, who admittedly sometimes has Scotch for lunch, barely knows if there is any time at all that is not right for alcohol, but he also couldn’t think of a better time than this.

His thoughts about what drinks he could retrieve from the depths of his understaffed kitchen cabinets soon fade away, because the moment they sit down on the couch they finally start making out. Just when the prickling starts to concentrate at a certain spot in Barba’s crotch, he naturally slips his hands underneath Carisi’s Henley, disappointed to find an undershirt there. Barba had never experienced Carisi wearing one and his fingers immediately search for a way to untuck it from his pants to finally find bare skin.

“I’m sorry.” Barba feels Carisi smiling against his lips. “It’s not like I’m not enjoying this, but I’m really not in the mood for sex tonight.”

“Oh, I really didn’t mean to…”

Barba really hadn’t meant to. His actions had come to him organically. He just likes to feel his man and quite frankly, since the evening of their first time they hadn’t been doing much else than this.

“I don’t wanna disappoint you. I just-“

“You really don’t, okay? It’s alright. I just, well, missed you.”

Carisi’s face beams up and Barba instinctively knows that he is biting back a comment on how cute he finds him. Wrongly so, because no matter how embarrassing it is to be called cute at his age, Barba likes to hear it.

So Barba puts an elbow on the backrest of his couch and places his head into his palm. With a warm smile on his lips, he asks: “Earlier when we talked on the phone, you were dropping so many names. Who are they?”

If possible, Carisi’s face lights up even more. He shifts his weight to face Barba fully and immediately starts babbling.

“Well, dad’s, you know, my dad. He just turned seventy one. He was a cop and he doesn’t smoke or drink much, but Ma’s cooking is not exactly the healthiest. So I’m afraid of what it means that he passed out.”

Carisi sighs and Barba is quick to throw in: “You’ll find out tomorrow. I’m sure he’s in good hands.”

“Yeah.” Carisi nods. “And Ma’s my mum, obviously. She’s the best. We’re very close. Again, I have to say. Our relationship was not always easy, but she’s so devoted to our family. I admire that so much. It would devastate her if something’s wrong with dad…”

Carisi stops himself, before Barba can tell him to not meet trouble halfway.

“Anyway, Teresa is my oldest sister and Mia is her daughter. Mia is eighteen and my first niece, I’m extremely proud of her. Teresa’s very much like my mum, very protective and she feels like she needs to take care of everything. She’s forty four now and divorced a long time ago. So unfortunately, she won’t give me more nieces. It’s for the best anyway. I swear to god, she threw up for four months straight when she was pregnant with Mia and during birth her placenta detached. She lost…”

Barba is so shocked by that image and the description of the following blood bath during child labor, that he misses Carisi’s description of his second oldest sister, Gina. He only hears the end of it: “She’s kinda mean” and “you would like her”. Carisi doesn’t take note of Barba’s confusion and continues to characterize his younger sister Bella, his favorite sister apparently, who has the cutest daughter, Lisa, his second niece, and a nice, but no-good husband, Tommy who is currently on parole. Needless to say that Carisi doesn’t leave out the horrors of her pregnancy which are only topped by an incredibly detailed story about Bella’s struggles with nursing her daughter.

“I’m sorry, did you wanna know all that?” Carisi finishes with a laugh.

 _Not really_ , Barba thinks, but he is happy that Carisi had told him anyway. He leans forward to kiss him.

He feels how Carisi relaxes under his kiss and Barba decides that tenderness is what he needs right now. So Barba stretches out his hand and lets his fingertips travel over the sensitive skin on Carisi’s scalp. And indeed, Carisi closes his eyes and the only thing missing from perfection in this moment is if he started purring like a cat.

Carisi’s face cracks a smile. “I like this way too much, you know that.”

He leans forward and without a warning drops his head into Barba’s lap. The couch is much too small for this position or a man of Carisi’s height for that matter, but he just puts his feet on the ground and doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Carisi keeps his eyes closed during the whole ordeal of Barba’s fingers exploring, or more precisely, admiring his facial features. With the tip of his index finger Barba traces the bridge of his distinctive nose, he takes his time to stroke awe-struck over the sweet wrinkles that form his dimples, the worry line between his eyebrows and his stunning cheekbones.

“Rafi?”

“Mmm?”

“You’re wearing sweatpants.”

Barba chuckles. He had assumed that Carisi is on the verge of drifting off so he wasn't expecting any insights at all. He only realizes now that changing his clothes into something more presentable, yet acceptingly homey must have slipped his mind during his hurried clean-up effort. Still, very incredibly so, Barba finds himself not to mind, because he knows that Carisi also doesn’t.

“They’re Armani.”

“Sure.”

“I insist on quality at home as well.”

In a sudden movement, Carisi lifts himself up. He turns Barba half around and starts fiddling somewhere at the waistband on Barba’s lower back, right above his ass.

“I thought, you didn’t want sex.”

“Turn a little more…” Carisi seems to find what he had been looking for when he manages to pull out the label. “Gosh, Rafi, they’re really Armani.”

“Did you really think I was kidding?”

Carisi sits back on his heels and throws his head back to laugh. “You’re really buying sweatpants only because they’re Armani.”

Barba, understanding nothing, draws his eyebrows together. “It’s not so much about the brand than the-“

“How much do you earn that you can waste your money on Armani sweatpants?”

“I think they cost not even 200.”

Carisi raises an amused eyebrow. “Anyhow, simply seeing you like this was worth coming over here.”

Barba looks down on his outfit, nude colored sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt. Barba thinks that he can see what Carisi likes in it.

“Anyway, I don’t wanna bother you too long…”

“What?”

“I just wanted to see you and it really helped. But it’s late, I’m gonna get outta your hair.”

“Sonny, don’t be silly. You will stay of course.”

“Are you sure?” Carisi asks, but Barba feels that he wouldn’t need to do any more convincing.

“Why not?”

Carisi’s answer is a calm smile. He nods.

“Okay, so if you don’t have any objections, I won’t argue with you, counselor.”

“Quite the dirty talk.”

Barba rolls his eyes in feigned drama, but laughs along when Carisi throws his head back into his neck.

Without a word of explanation, Carisi gets up and undoes his pants. It takes a moment for Barba to realize that the man has actually not changed his mind but just wants to get comfortable.

While Carisi steps out of his jeans, he lets his curious eyes trail openly through the apartment. Apparently not having taken in his surroundings before.

Barba shifts his weight, suddenly becoming extremely self-conscious of his home. He really does like his small apartment, but at the end of the day Barba doesn’t really spend much time here. And when he does, he usually sleeps or, as pathetic as it is, works. He wonders if it shows.

“Do you like it?” Barba can’t resist to ask.

“It’s very you”, Carisi answers without thinking. Still looking around in the apartment, he takes his phone out the pocket of his pants before he throws them over an armchair nearby. “So I love it.” Carisi bends forward to peck Barba on the lips.

Then, he just stands there in his boxers and his t-shirt in Barba’s living room and checks his phone. But it’s close to midnight, so Barba guesses there are no news from the hospital.

“We can go to bed, if you want.”

“Yeah, I was just gonna suggest that.”

“But I have to admit that I don’t have a spare toothbrush.”

“It’s alright. I think, I can skip it tonight.” Carisi exposes teeth when he smiles at Barba. “I’m just really glad I’m here.”

“Yeah, me too”, Barba admits quickly before he turns towards his bathroom. “I’ll do my evening routine though, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’ll fix myself up with a glass of water, if that’s okay?”

Carisi jerks a thumb over his shoulder pointing towards the kitchen area.

“Of course. Uh, do you need anything else?”

Suddenly it had come to Barba’s mind that he should be polite enough to ask at least this much.

“No, just some space in your bed and I’m fine.”

“Good, um, just make yourself at home. Okay?”

Barba says the invitation quickly and is surprised to mean it. Even though Barba likes his own space very much he feels that it is not just Carisi’s gorgeous smile that makes him say that. He wants Carisi to be here.

This must be the reason why, when he steps into his bedroom after having brushed his teeth and neatly refolded Carisi’s pants on the armchair, he cannot resist but take in the view of Carisi in his bed.

And all of a sudden, it becomes a little more real. Here he is, the man Barba has so foolishly fallen for. The man he googles embarrassingly often when he misses him and whose show he watches for the sole purpose of ogling him.

He is right here in his bed.

And this is absolutely where Barba wants him to be.

He is really here.

Barba takes in a deep breath before he crawls onto the bed right into Carisi’s open arms. He searches for his lips and kisses him deeply, before he positions himself so that Carisi can safely pillow his head on his shoulder.

And just like this, before the message even comes in the morning that Dominick Sr. simply has low blood sugar, they both have found some comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now please big, big shout outs!
> 
> Thanks to barbaesparza and nevadatrash for discussing this fic with me and for betareading! And to nevadatrash again for discussing and researching Barba's sweatpants situation with me.
> 
> Thanks to blu_eyed_demon for finding this grumpy cat meme for me when I just couldn't find it! The Barisi meme is stolen from [ this Tumblr post by s0nnycarisi](https://mforpaul.tumblr.com/post/181962629196/iloveadabarba-orangetiger90-s0nnycarisi) btw.
> 
> Thanks to icedcoffeehoe for help with the Spanish!
> 
> The headcanon about the nosekink is for obfuscate__yummy and FreckledSkittle shares [the same headcanon about Sonny's sensitive scalp](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208167/chapters/45665329). And I read about the headcanon of Barba having a crazy coffee order on the Barisi fandom Twitter as well (whoever started it, I would like to give you credit). And the idea that tagging you in a meme is considered a romantic gesture is stolen from soul_writerr's research for one of her fics.
> 
> What happens in the next chapter? I don't want to say because I feel like you won't like it.


	12. Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bitch

She strokes back her cocoa brown hair as if a sudden wave of heat is hitting her. The curling iron has done a good job on her fake waves. A bit of lip gloss and a confident lid line to stress her hazelnut eyes is all she needs to look perfectly beautiful.

Her stylists do their job as well as she does hers for she manages to put a shimmer in her eyes and a small rosy blush on her cheeks when she puts a strain of hair that is actually not out of place between the index and middle finger of her right hand and turns to Carisi, seemingly flustered.

"Maybe there's a reason why the two of you have such a good chemistry on screen?"

As straightforward as this sentence comes along, it is rather an observation (although a false one in Barba’s unsolicited but grounded opinion) than an actual question which doesn't mean that Carisi and his co-star don't hear the question mark all the same.

"Uhm?"

She giggles with feigned abashment. Carisi in response smiles back just as bashfully, yet for different reasons. This is the moment she bites her lip looking at Carisi in a manner as if they both know more than the viewers.

Her outfit is in accordance with her hair. A simple cream colored blouse combined with a golden necklace, simple beauty, she doesn't need more Carisi in turn wears a gray shirt that Barba has seen on him too often considering the short time they’ve been dating. This shirt seems to be Carisi's go-to choice when he goes for casual but chic, only this shirt is anything but chic. It's all in all a little too nothing, doing nothing to underline any of his features or his eyes or all the other things about him that make him fucking beautiful. And Barba hates to know that Carisi’s fans actually find his lack of style in private moments when no professional opinion has a hold of him quite adorable. Needless to say that Barba, for all the reasons cited above, doesn’t agree.

"It's just that Sonny and I get along so well."

She shrugs her shoulders and makes a dismissive hand gesture that she adorns with a seemingly shy smile.

"I'm so humbled to work with him. Sonny’s such a great guy."

This is when she throws her brown hair over her shoulder and keeps her chin tugged onto her own shoulder. Her gaze lies seemingly dreamy on Carisi.

"I think this is why… you know, our chemistry on screen is so good. 'Cause it's just _there_."

She finishes the three piece act with putting her hand on Carisi's knee. Her fake eyelashes flutter at Carisi in expectancy of him to add one last line to her little one-woman-show.

But Carisi only smiles. Or at least he tries to. It's weak and Barba wouldn't blame anybody to not see it at all.

He doesn't even go with the situation. He just doesn't deny it. This is Carisi's whole fault. His guilt is evidently this little and yet Barba feels monstrously overlooked.

Fairly, Barba has no one else to blame but himself for paying such close attention to a little piece of television. Not to mention even watching it in the first place.

And honestly, what is Carisi supposed to deny anyway? The few times they had talked about it Barba had made it very clear that he does not want to appear alongside him in any tweet or yellow press or whatever is not in his control. Carisi had repeated over and over again how fine he is with Barba not being ready yet. And while Barba genuinely believes his candor, for him this is not a question of being "ready" or "yet". He simply refuses to be a part of this. Barba has been a part of hashtags enough as it is and it won't happen again.

Barba throws the remote on the coffee table after he realizes that annoyingly hitting the off-button doesn’t do it for him. He barely uses his television anyway - what has driven him to turn it on this very morning, Barba doesn’t know.

Well, Barba does know. It had been Carmen calling to inform him that his early meeting with Caliay is cancelled, leaving Barba with some unexpected time on his hands. And as it often is these days, his intention was to fill it with Carisi. This is how this interview had thwarted his plan of watching some reruns of Suspicion while zapping through the channels.

Barba grabs his briefcase and jacket and hurries out of his apartment. He is going to have another day in court. And this one should make him feel uplifted because Kavanaugh's end is near. Buchanan had even asked Barba to put a deal on the table. Needless to say that Barba had refused. He would need only a couple of court days more to crush him.

Stupid morning shows.

It is going well between them, very well. Despite the extreme closeness Barba feels comfortable, comfortable to a level where he even searches said closeness in every free moment. And surely Barba hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

The shift Barba had felt since that spontaneous night Carisi had spent in his place two weeks ago is certainly one guided by giddiness and still stained by the sense that he doesn’t dare to believe what is happening. While they haven’t succumbed to similar spontaneity again Barba has certainly started to feel a little more relaxed about his imaginations of what Carisi might want from him. And the same may hold true for Carisi because at the end of the day him in his bed is all Barba wants.

Carisi had spent one more night at Barba’s since and had excessively complained about Barba's understaffed kitchen even though they had ordered in Thai food. Barba had entertained Carisi's reasoning of why he should have spatulas, bamboo steamers and what not. Simply for the sake of watching that adorable blush creeping up Carisi’s neck from underneath his shirt. Sweet or hot doesn't even begin to explain how absolutely irresistible Carisi is when he is getting enthusiastic about something, be it something as insignificant as kitchen utensils. And _yeah_ , Barba had also hoped that their little banter would turn into sex in the kitchen. It hadn't. Yet. But it would. One day. Barba is very sure of that.

The most significant shift that Barba feels though is not one of shared nights underneath a giant comforter, but one in the way they start their conversations. The bland “How was your day?” has turned into varieties of _I wanted to hear your voice_ or _Why didn’t you send a selfie?_ and even over the phone where Barba cannot see the beautiful pink on his cheeks, he is keen to make Carisi smile.

They also slowly start sharing more about their past than their present and once had even made it through half a movie before Carisi had gone down on him. Carisi’s shyness for spilling tales of his past probably originated from nothing else but Barba’s own reluctance to do the same. But the man has made Barba a sap and it turned out exactly as Barba had feared. He had cracked and foolishly told Carisi a story about how he got trapped in the trap room underneath the stage during a performance of _Merrily We Roll Along_ in high school. To be honest, Barba hadn’t told Carisi the whole story, but still it contained a few embarrassing parts that he had managed to keep buried during the last decades.

They know each other naked but they don’t know each other bare, yet. Still, Barba has not an ounce of doubt about Carisi’s sincerity. Carisi has a pure heart. It may make Barba scared to have it in such close proximity to himself, but he knows that Carisi would never choose his career over hurting his feelings. So maybe Carisi should have warned him about that interview - Barba estimates it must have been recorded a week ago - still Barba knows that he didn't _mean_ to insinuate any relationship with his co-star and thereby denying his real one. Yet Carisi lets everyone believe this being the case.

And even after his court day when the sun is already setting between the skyscrapers of New York, Barba is still hung up on the unexpected frustration he feels over the situation. Technically the interview doesn't even exist because Barba continuously pretends to not follow any of Carisi's work and Barba is surely not going to open up about his little chagrin.

So _yes_ , Barba is not happy with how he is handling this. He should stay above these things as he knows what a fool Carisi is making of himself when he’s near him but still he finds himself churning around every piece of that goddamn interview in his head.

Barba knows he shouldn't be angry, but he is. It's technically not Carisi's fault, and if it is then only to a small extent for playing along. And quite frankly, Barba thinks that if Carisi wants to do his job right, he even should do exactly that. Just like that actress did.

Barba knows her name as well as her character's, yet "bitch" is all that is coming to his mind.

He should be happy but he is not. In court, he had played his role as a cutthroat bitch well today because Barba had managed to throw out not one but two pieces of evidence that Buchanan had tried to introduce and had smashed one of his "expert" witnesses on the stand. Still he is not happy about his court day because he is not happy about something unrelated.

And this is where Barba starts to worry. He shouldn’t let something he's not supposed to be angry about get in his way of feeling the usual and very well-deserved high after a win in court. This had been Barba’s plan all along, not just that this thing he has for this man wouldn’t interfere with his professional career but also, and Barba is ashamed that this is even the case, that he wouldn’t let it get to him.

Maybe Barba really is not ready yet. The whole celebrity status and social media madness is a whole other level but obsessing over a small detail or worse a larger misplacement of trust is something that Barba isn’t prepared for.

He should just be able to speak his concerns and it should be fine. The worst thing is that Barba knows that it would be fine. Carisi would give Barba an explanation he never wanted, be even more sorry, which Barba doesn’t want, and do anything in his power to make up for it regardless of what it would do to the publicity he needs for his career, not that this is what Barba wants.

What Barba knows he wouldn’t be able to handle is that Carisi wouldn’t get a hold of himself after Barba's unexpected soppiness. Barba couldn't do it. To admit to being this sensitive when it is not necessary. To not stay cool when the situation is apparently this trivial. To put himself in such a vulnerable position when he could easily not.

One of his hands clasps around his briefcase and the other one holds on to the paper cup of coffee that he had purchased despite the late hour. It does nothing to give him any more clarity in the situation, but Barba can excuse this unguided gesture with the little cold breeze that sneaks around the corners on this onset of the evening.

His companion for his little after work walk is Olivia who gladly babbles on about her son after they had sufficiently discussed the day of court behind them. The discussion had ended up short because of lack of necessity in the light of Barba’s obvious success today. As always it had come easily for Liv to fall into endless stories of things that Noah Porter Benson is able to do that he hadn’t been able to do only a week ago. As happy as Barba is that these stories do not anymore include the vast variety of objects that the boy had put into his mouth during his few years on this earth, he thinks it’s unnecessary to listen nonetheless. Liv finds enough encouragement in his pretending.

This is how Barba doesn’t quite know why they are heading for the newsstand until Liv holds a cartoon in her hand. Barba waits while she gets in line to pay. His eyes trail over the magazines placed in front of the news stand. It doesn’t take long for him to detect a familiar set of blue eyes.

His stunning features nestle against the pink background of the cover, complementing the delicate shades of his skin in a flattering way. He wears an all-black suit, a buttoned up shirt that does everything to highlight his extremely long neck. This sight alone makes Barba feel woozy. He doesn’t even need the pretty face and the seductive half-smile around these plush lips that makes the perfection that is his boyfriend.

_His boyfriend. Apparently._

Barba’s eyes rake along this long neck again. He had spent hours buried in the depths of it. One time he had even felt daring enough to contemplate on comparing Carisi to a giraffe. The level of alcohol of the both of them had been just right on that evening in question but Barba had chickened out at last in fear that he wouldn’t be able to blame it on the booze after all.

_That is who he is._

As surreal as it feels to find Carisi here on the cover of a pink magazine where he expects to find him, the less surreal it is that he has someone he wants to compare to giraffe in the first place. Not just that the comparison considering Carisi’s lanky limbs and slim figure surprisingly doesn’t fall short, there is an unforeseen warmth swelling in his chest in light of this endearment. And actually, even though he still needs time to be comfortable with sharing this particular foolishness with Carisi, Barba finds himself to be fine with all of it.

_And I feel good with that._

“How is he?”

Barba only realizes then that a goofy smile had stolen itself on his face. Slightly startled, he looks up to Liv who holds a paper cup of cocoa in one hand and the cartoon in the other. She smiles back at him a little too pleased, but Barba doesn’t allow himself to be irritated.

“His career is thriving and uh…” Barba narrows his eyes and leans forward to read the headline. “He’s an eternal sunshine who really is that nice.”

Barba jerks his head to indicate her to go.

“You were eating nothing but salad the last couple of months, this is why I ask. And, well, you look good.”

Barba cannot say that he had expected to hear that. It hadn’t occurred to him (anymore) that the way he is feeling on the inside would somehow burst through his skin and manifest itself on his features in a way that has caused someone telling him that he looks good. Liv is the first one to begin with who seems to see that difference, that shift maybe, in him that Barba had so disorientedly searched for.

_Besides, when do I ever not look good? Sonny would never dare to say so._

“The case is going well, why wouldn’t I?”

Barba swallows the lie with a sip of bitter coffee. He hadn’t put any sugar as Liv had been standing right next to him when he had bought the coffee. He still thinks the illusion that he only drinks black coffee gives others the right impression of him.

“Because you’re under a lot of pressure.”

“Like that’s something new.”

“There was never that much media attention before.”

“Didn’t we put that behind ourselves today?”

“Okay, okay.”

They both take a sip of their hot beverage in unison and turn their heads back to the pavement in front of them. Barba knows that Liv has about half an hour before she needs to be home to relieve Lucy. This is why he also knows that she would spend every single minute of these thirty minutes with just aimlessly walking through the streets of New York.

“Did he send you those flowers?”

Liv had asked the question quieter than necessary and is now sipping on her hot chocolate more furtively than necessary, trying to look away and Barba straight in the eyes at the same time. Barba sends her a sidelong look, genuinely wondering how obvious Carisi’s affection must have been back then. Or better, the nature of his affection. That the man had admired him had been unanticipated maybe, but obvious all the same.

“No.”

Barba’s answer is simple. He doesn’t like to lie to Liv, not just because he has witnessed many situations where this had backfired but mostly because it is not necessary. He can and does trust her, her and her judgement, and moreover knows enough about her quirks and troubles to be convinced that in her eyes one hundred red roses in the midst of a rape trial is nothing to be ashamed of. No endangerment of the case had happened after all.

One way or the other it is not necessary to burden her with that secret. A secret it barely is as besides him and Carisi actually nobody knows. It’s too easy to pretend that it simply doesn’t exist.

And Barba doesn’t need to see Liv’s twitching lip to know that she doesn’t believe a word he says.

“Good for you.”

They walk a few minutes in silence and Barba’s mind wanders back to when one hundred red roses had accompanied his week in the office. He had felt so incredibly overwhelmed in the most pleasant way ever. Back then the idea of Carisi had tasted so good on his tongue that it had to be nothing else but a fantasy, an endearing one, an arousing one for sure, but a fantasy all the same. Anything above the fantasy had seemed too good to be true and now it is exactly that. _He_ is exactly that, he is true in all sense of the word and he is even better than Barba has the means to imagine.

And Barba feels goofy again, because he smiles to himself.

_Sonny would like that about me._

“It’s just that you never talk about being with anyone, ever.”

“Maybe I’m never with anyone. Ever.”

Liv rolls her eyes as Barba mocks her tone. It is true that during the years of their friendship Barba had fallen into the comfort of rather listening to her men problems than spilling his own. Not that he had ever allowed them to exist in the first place.

“You don’t need to worry, you know. At least about me or the squad. I don’t know about Twitter, but you also shouldn’t worry about that because it’s all not ‘real’ there. It’s just, he was so obviously crushing, he was very sweet. And you deserve that.”

Barba says nothing for a while.

So is this where Liv’s question is coming from? The wish rather than the observation that Barba could have that. The sweetness of a genuinely kind man who has a crush on him. And isn’t that where Barba’s chest unpreventably tightens where it had bathed under the warmth of the memories only minutes before?

Attractiveness? Yes. Beauty? Even more so. These are all things that Barba can easily have and deserves if that is even in question, but sweetness? A sentiment that reaches underneath, deeper into his heart. He probably deserves that, yes. But maybe he just shouldn’t.

“I _have been_ good the last couple of months.”

Silence stretches out, between the two of them at least. The noises of the city, the endless chatter of voices and the constant resonating of honks still twirl around them, swallow the sound of their shoes hitting the pavement.

“And you’re right with your guess that I’m with someone.”

At the beginning of this line of conversation Barba had been determined to not actually confirm that Carisi is the one. But now Barba sees no point in denying it.

“I don’t know what it means, yet. This is all very new to me, I have to admit. But yeah, I’m happy right now. Very unexpectedly so, I’m very happy right now.”

Barba realizes that he had followed Liv a little too long on her pilgrimage through the streets of Manhattan. He should part ways with her before it becomes necessary for him to call a car to get back to his apartment.

“What you’re ascribing to Sonny Carisi though, I have no idea.”

The smirk that cracks his face matches hers in power of imagination. Barba comes to a stand and indicates with a lazy hand gesture that he's turning around at this corner where she's walking on straight.

“He _is_ very sweet.” Barba shifts his gaze from some uncertain point in the distance to Liv who smiles at him excitedly. “And he sucks dicks like a god.”

And this is why (the sweetness, not the dick sucking) a couple of hours later Barba's tongue occupies itself with cherishing every piece of bare skin he can find on Carisi's body instead of trying to articulate the words on the tip of it. Carisi in accordance doesn't question the sweetness of Barba's greeting and even comes up to meet his endeavors. Carisi helps Barba strip off his own clothes and lets himself be led to his own bedroom.

And there any worries about things that are not there or lost highs after court days die between kisses and skin touching skin. Slowly, gradually, momentarily, everything just starts to feel good.

The feeling lasts until the afterglow that leaves Barba feeling spent. So spent that he feels himself deeply longing for a nap. Not that half past nine in the evening is a good time for those, especially not when they haven't had dinner yet.

"Just order something online."

Barba knows Carisi to have a stack of quick recipes ready in his mind for situations exactly like these and it's not that Barba would mind Carisi's giant versions of scrambled eggs with varied additional ingredients out of his freezer. The protein is admittedly the correct choice for them. It’s just that Barba right now would prefer to appreciate the thirty minutes that waiting for their take out would give them to just continue lying in that bed a little longer. Preferably wrapped around that man.

So Barba throws one leg around Carisi's hips from behind, presses his belly against Carisi’s back and stretches himself to put his chin onto his shoulder. From this position he now has a good view on Carisi's thumb scrolling over the screen of his phone for food options. Barba guides him to order Vietnamese and after that finds himself too lazy to untie himself out of the position.

With nothing else left to do as closing his eyes is not an option, he would drift off in a heartbeat, he follows the incredible ratio of text messages per minute that Carisi exchanges with his sisters. Only gradually Barba begins to understand the madness that are the Carisi sisters with Gina being the red flag in the mixture of those siblings. The patience with which Carisi answers to the ascents and downfalls of spite and bliss (or why he answers at all) Barba has no idea. He follows the group chat with mild interest only all the same. As soon as he finds out that Gina is thinking about a new engagement to a man called Mario who apparently is the new priest in some church close to the ferry station who has a habit of wearing adilettes (a fact that the Carisi’s sisters tie to the early death of said gentleman’s grandmother) after calling off her last one only a few weeks ago, his brain immediately decides that this level of drama is too much for the end of his day.

Instead Barba occupies his fingertips with playing with Carisi's graying temples. A motion so soothing that it brings him right back to the place Barba is avoiding, the edge of sleep. Barba is even more unamused by the fact that Carisi is too busy with his group chat so that Barba doesn't even get a satisfaction out of Carisi's usual cute responses to treating his hair.

This is how that just when Barba wants to open his mouth to complain, Carisi turns around and kisses him. The kiss is short, but intense. Surely with more tongue than necessary.

"The food should be here soon, we better get up."

Carisi entangles himself out of Barba's koala grip, a task Barba doesn't really help him with as he lets his leg slag heavily. Carisi eventually manages to heave Barba's leg up and slips away from underneath him.

Barba in turn is in no hurry to climb out of bed. Not when he is presented with nakedness. And as Carisi is six feet tall, there is a lot of nakedness for Barba to look at, and to be fair, he actually should do exactly that.

Carisi scratches the back of his neck and openly yawns.

"Are you sure that Pho isn’t too spicy for you though?"

"It's not a problem, I like spicy food."

"Yeah, I know that but that reflux you have could come from eating too spicy and if you eat spicy this late, you know, that might not be good for you."

"Reflux?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

“Do you know more than my doctor?”

“Do you ever go to the doc? ‘Cause they’d tell you that you had reflux.”

Barba decides to roll his eyes at Carisi’s unsolicited concern.

"You can have it then."

"What will you have then?"

"One of the five thousand and one appetizers and side dishes you ordered."

Carisi purses lips, but doesn't reply. He walks over to his dresser and pulls out a fresh pair of underwear.

"It's the blood of my nonnas in me. I can't leave you with an empty stomach."

"Considering the amounts of food you prepare for breakfast, my stomach won't stay empty for very long."

"Yeah, about that…"

Carisi scratches his five o’clock shadow and looks at Barba bashfully but with a honeyed smile.

Barba loves this smile just as much as the accompanying pink on his cheeks and of course, Carisi knows this much, too.

It's the tone of Carisi's voice that makes him feel annoyed. Barba knows that tone of voice and quite frankly, he wishes he wouldn’t know it this well.

"I need to get up, like, super early tomorrow for work, so I'm afraid I can't make you breakfast. But you can sleep-"

"Didn't you say you're not shooting until afternoon?"

"Yeah, but the production company wants to do more promotion. You know these sexual assault cases lay heavily on the show so they want to promote something lighter, like the relationships on the show so…"

Carisi clears his throat before he walks over to his closet where he pulls out a clean t-shirt.

Something in the pit of Barba’s stomach has been burning since the middle of that speech and Barba purses his lips.

That had not been the plan. He had looked forward to half a Saturday with his significant other and not another weekend spent over work he had brought home with him. If he knew this would happen he would have arranged to drown that Saturday morning in mimosas and stories about Rita's thighs wrapped around some newly divorced rich guy's hips.

And something tells Barba that he wouldn’t be able to let it slide this evening.

"I see."

"I'm sorry, but we really need to cut this short tomorrow."

"There's no cutting short, this just won't happen tomorrow, like, basically at all."

“Rafi, please-”

“So you can just say so.”

Carisi has a t-shirt in one hand and sweat shorts in the other and while Barba doesn't see through the logistics of Carisi’s plan to dress himself, Carisi in turn stands still. He considers Barba for a long moment while his forehead gradually furrows deeper and deeper.

"What exactly do you want me to say?"

"Nothing besides what you're already saying." Barba shrugs his shoulders and sits up. "You have other responsibilities so we won't spend time together tomorrow. That’s it."

"I'm sorry I have to cancel on you, I'm not liking this either. But I have to work."

Barba doesn’t want to see these blue eyes pleading at him, he doesn’t want to see these pink lips mumbling apologies. So Barba turns away.

"As always."

Barba had his back turned to Carisi as he was climbing out of the bed while he said so. So Carisi probably hasn't heard him loud enough, but he had understood him just right.

"Excuse me?"

Barba turns around to a gape-mouthed Carisi and speaks up: "I said 'as always'."

Carisi is clearly taken aback. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, only to uncross them again. He shifts his weight from one foot onto the other but all his efforts do not lead to him finding the bite he needs to put into his next words. Instead when he opens his mouth to speak the sentence just sounds sad.

"I need to work, what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing to do about it and I have no grounds to complain. It's just that Saturday morning is basically the only time we can share a meal together, taking our time I mean. So I don't see why this photoshoot with her needs to be on Saturday morning."

Barba hasn't raised his voice but his tongue had started tripping over the words leading to his sentences coming out in a heated staccato.

"It's not my fault it's tomorrow morning."

"And I never said that."

Barba decides to simply get dressed. He doesn’t like this conversation and he has no intention to get angry with an empty stomach. But maybe his anger shows in the way he picks up his clothes, quick and efficient and with no glance back to Carisi. Barba doesn't know why and quite frankly doesn't have it in him right now to care about this.

"So what are you saying?"

"You're working which means we can't spend time together. We’ve established that."

"And you think I'm doing this on purpose?" Carisi's voice pitches and he swallows hard.

"No, I'm just realizing that you work on the weekend. Or better the only free part of your weekend, that part of the weekend you don’t spend in the backyards of Staten Island because _oh wait!_ Yeah, during the week we barely see each other because you, well, work."

"I thought you of all people understand!”

“Understand what?”

“How important my work is to me."

"Yes, I work all the time, too. But still I find time to meet up with you. I wonder why that is."

"So I don't manage my time well?"

"Considering that you have a personal assistant-"

"You cannot be serious."

"I'm just stating the situation as it is."

"Do you think I don't want to be with you?"

Barba feels his cheeks burning up and as much as he hates this, he wants to discuss the fact that he misses Carisi even less than the possibility that he misses him more than Carisi does him.

"There are constantly other places where you rather need to be."

"And have you ever thought about why that is?"

Barba is by now fully dressed while Carisi still stands there in his boxers. Only that there is no length of Carisi's admittedly small bedroom between them anymore as Carisi had made steps towards Barba during the conversation and now stands only one or two feet away from him.

"What are _you_ trying to say?"

Now it's Barba's forehead's turn to furrow in disbelief and it is accompanied by a feeling of defeat. Or at least this is what this ache in his chest reminds him of. This feeling as if all the air has left his lungs after a blast against his chest, leaving him too breathless to huff out his next argument.

"Rafael, you were the one who asked me to be patient."

"Excuse me?"

Any unease in his chest is immediately replaced by a blazing anger as he suddenly understands what Carisi is alluding to.

"And I'm glad to be that, really. I love what we have. Do I want more, yes! This doesn't come as a surprise to you probably. Still, I'm happy. But how can you ask me to make sacrifices when you yourself said you're not willing to."

Barba's mouth snaps shut. Panic joins the anger in his chest and for a moment swallows the words that were already on his tongue.

"And look how patient you are."

"Rafael!"

Suddenly the piercing blue of his eyes is not nice anymore. It cuts right through Barba just like the cold cuts through his gloves during winter.

“You better be careful with what you say.”

"You realize you started this conversation, right? You are the one, right now, who's asking me to make shortcuts in my work in favor of you while... you're still struggling with commitment."

"Don't pressure me."

Where Carisi has raised his voice, Barba's had fallen into a whisper. In no way a sign of submissiveness or even one of caving in but instead an assertive way to stand his grounds. They don't need to be shouted out or even heard among shouting because they are there, solid and rooted, no matter what.

"I am not pressuring you, you are pressuring me."

"I'm asking for a fucking breakfast and you make this a thing."

Carisi runs his hand over his mouth over Barba's use of the f-word. Barba sees it in his eyes that Carisi doesn’t like where this has lead but for Barba this is nothing more than an inevitable consequence of what is happening anyway.

"I wonder why me working is even a thing."

"It's not, it's just vexing. But _this_ is not fair. I can’t believe you even dared to say that."

Barba lifts his index finger and points somewhere, the exact direction is not necessary for Carisi to know what Barba means.

The panic still ponders in his chest and Barba decides to give in to that feeling. So he walks past Carisi into the living area and tries to remember where his shoes are.

Carisi is of course close on his heels. Carisi is always close, giving Barba personal space is not a concept this man knows and this makes Barba’s blood burn only a little more.

"Rafael, you saw how it is. Everything I do has the potential to immediately become public. And this isn’t just about me, you also need to live with that."

"Don't start with that hashtag again-"

"Are you prepared to read headlines about me blowing off commitments for you? Do you even know what that means?"

"Oh my god!" _Shoes_. Shoes is all that Barba can think of. "You realize I didn't ask any of this from you?"

"Also my family, they mean a lot. So it should mean something when I tell them about you. This is why I didn’t even-"

"Wow, your family. That's really you going easy on me here."

Barba snorts. He doesn’t like the feeling. He tries to put on his shoes in this apartment that isn’t his own with Carisi standing right next to him when he wants nothing more but to end this conversation. Why is he the one to be cornered while Carisi is the one who's supposed to explain himself? Barba doesn’t know.

“Look, if you’re complaining that I’m seeing them instead of you. You could come along but I won’t introduce them to you if you don’t say-.”

Carisi stops short and bites his beautiful lips.

“What, if I don’t what?” Barba looks up from lacing his shoes and finds the crimson face of Carisi. He looks sorry, but he only purses his lips. “What are you trying to tell me?”

"I'm sorry that it is that way, but I am who I am. I cannot make any sacrifices without consequences and as long as we’re both unwilling to go public... This is what it is. Wait, what are you doing?"

Barba has put on his shoes by now, not willing to accept the weight of the conversation.

"Sonny, people call you, ask you if you have time on Saturday morning. Why do you say yes? This is what I wonder."

"Rafael, you really shouldn’t go.”

“Watch me.”

“This is not good, you’re making this bigger than necessary-”

But Barba is already heading in quick steps to the door.

“ _You_ turned this conversation around. This one is on you.”

“I’m warning you not to do this. This is not going to end well-”

“Just take it this way, I don’t wanna get up early tomorrow morning, so I’m going home. Have a nice evening.”

Before Carisi can protest, which he does but Barba shuts him out, he opens the door and leaves. In front of the elevator he basically walks into the take out guy whose name tag says “Barry”.

The evening air outside does nothing to cool him down. It is cool probably, at least Barba guesses this much, but his mind stays misted with nothing in particular except his pounding heart. This is how he only remembers after walking three blocks that he should better get a cab.

When he sits down in the back of a taxi that he had been able to catch unexpectedly quick Barba breathes. For maybe the first time since he had left the apartment.

The cab driver is a smoker so the smell of cigarettes sticks to the roof of Barba’s mouth, but this does nothing to make the situation any worse.

The panic is still there, on full display. This is probably the ultimate reason that had made him run away. As immature running away seems, Barba knows that he won’t be able to make any coherent points if he is guided by that terrifying feeling in his chest.

 _Or is it anger maybe?_ Barba doesn’t even know that.

He doesn’t recognize himself in the moment. It’s not just that the adrenaline rushing through his veins makes it impossible for him to make out the arguments that either one of them had made. And if he cannot even do that, how is he supposed to come up with a strategy to win?

And there, sitting on the back of the cap, Barba realizes that he had forgotten the book he brought for Carisi back in his apartment.

And beyond that, he doesn’t know much more.

And Barba curses himself for being exactly that, pathetic.

He is angry, but at the same time he wants to tell the driver to turn around.

He doesn’t know himself to be a man who loses control and this is exactly what he has been afraid of all along.

But maybe this is a good thing. Maybe this is just them coming to terms with how things are. Maybe they should even be happy that they clash over something this small and not over the big things that hang like thunderclouds above them.

Maybe this is Barba’s last chance to back out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> This is the inspiration for Carisi on the magazine cover.
> 
>   
> And this is the one shirt Carisi owns. Duh!
> 
> The inspiration for Carisi's co-star, although she remains unnamed, is Rachel Bilson because she's the queen of romcom series dramas.
> 
> I have promised you to update quicker, but it took me nearly two months. I'm sorry. The only good news is that I will finish that story no matter if anyone still follows or not and I am not so cruel to leave you at this point. Chapter 13 is already written, it just needs polish and beta. 
> 
> Special shout out to my dear beta Rahel who listens patiently to all of the weird fic problems I have in my life. Very special thanks to @LVNGDON on Twitter who gave me the idea for this fight months ago. I need to thank Karen for making me notice Barba's angry remote clicking behaviors. And the koala thing is completely stolen from Chey. [Check out her fic.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208167/chapters/45665329) Thanks to everyone who bares with me!


	13. Moving on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The resolution/consequence of the fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Rahel who said this is her new favorite chapter! Hold on, girl, I'm coming to you.

Barba closes his mouth for a silent belch. He puts his palm above his belly in a desperate attempt to quiet down the rumble. The two chili dogs and fries he had for lunch lie heavy in his stomach and he feels an uncomfortable pain burning up his throat.

The book of a certain professor for women’s studies (mental air quotes don’t suffice to express the audacity of this man’s self-description, so Barba doesn’t even attempt) lies on his desk. Carmen had marked the most important passages for him as there is no way Barba is going to read this tome until Monday morning when he’s going to question its author on the witness stand.

And plain-spoken that is the only thing that gives Barba an idea of happiness in this moment. There are so many of them. Around fifteen neon colored paper marks are sneaking out between the pages of the book, giving the subject matter a little bit of needless color. An article of the same guy, a priest by the way, that Buchanan had turned into evidence a couple of hours ago lies next to it. Next to the book and on top of all the other paperwork that McCoy had asked Barba to hand in until the evening. Between all of this Detective Amaro is still talking.

“I’m sure if we get neighbors to testify that she used to visit his house regularly it’ll be enough to only charge him with Maddie’s case.”

“Oh, really? And are you gonna be the one to prosecute?”

Amaro presses his lips together, but seemingly decides to not answer Barba’s retort. Before he can say anything though to further affirm his point, Detective Rollins next to him speaks up.

“We did the same thing with Harvey. Mr. Carisi just saw him there, otherwise we had no hard evi-“

“Who died and made you all lawyers?”

And of course, Rollins’ tongue, angry by being cut off before the end of the sentence, is quick to add: “Counselor, we’re all in the same boat here.”

“Enough with this bullsh-” Barba stops himself by shutting the file in his hands with more vigor than necessary, especially considering that the thin paper doesn’t underline the intended drama with a corresponding sound, and throws it across his desk back to Rollins and Amaro who share a look. “You’ll either bring me more evidence on Maddie’s case or you’ll get ready to put Ian’s case to trial as well. And fyi, you’re going to need to do both anyway.”

“Rafa, it’s not the first time we bring a weak case to court.”

Liv was standing in the background during all of this, but now she steps forward closer to Barba’s desk and shoulder to shoulder with her detectives. Barba sends her only a mild glance while he is already putting the cursed priest’s paper aside and checks through the paperwork that needs to be done by the end of the day.

“And it’s not the first time we’re gonna lose one.”

“This is not about losing or winning and you know that.”

“Liv, like _this_ …” Barba nods towards the file that lies astray and forlorn between thick document folders, paper clips, and shrink-wrapped evidence maps at the other end of his desk. “This one has no chance. We don’t have a single thing to show.”

“But we cannot just sit there and do nothing!”

“So get. More. Evidence.”

Barba raised his voice and even though it was not much, the effect is tenfold because Barba has no reason to do so in the first place. Stress is a language SVU’s detectives know as well as he does, they share the same subject matter after all. The burden of piles of files aside from the horrors themselves is an all too familiar one to all of them, this is why Barba and his colleagues can differentiate very well when lack of success is due to lack of prospects and not actually lack of trying. So even if Barba doesn’t yell, yelling is uncalled for basically, Barba knows he falls short of the right tone.

“Rafa, we’re trying the best we can. And this is the best you can get.”

Liv doesn’t raise her voice in turn, but it has a bite to it that tastes bitter on Barba’s tongue.

“I have enough on my plate with the Kavanaugh case already.”

Before anyone can dare to keep arguing with him, his phone rings and Barba sighs before he takes it in his hand to learn if it’s relief or yet another liability.

“If we just get him on a milder offense. Something, anything, that’ll get him on the list of sex offenders.”

Liv keeps talking all the same, Barba knows her better of course. Barba wants to roll his eyes and imagines to cause a massive earthquake with so much force that the floor of his office would open up and swallow these detectives out of his sight. His eyelids feel heavy and he has no idea why they are still arguing with him, he had made his point clear. This is why he raises one index finger while he picks up the phone.

“Barba.”

It is McCoy and he is talking himself into a rant about how important it is to wrap up trials quickly. As if he was a second semester law school student. Barba knows that the media attention of these high-profile cases make the telephone lines of McCoy’s office buzz and probably the man’s own ass as well. The Kavanaugh case is strong, there is no reason not to give it back to the jury finally. Barba has no way to argue with that, so he listens and answers. What he answers, Barba doesn’t know. It’s probably something about “the judge’s decision” and “Buchanan talking himself into a corner”. He cannot help but massage his forehead, having a hard time believing that he is actually explaining himself.

Meanwhile Liv nods to Amaro and Rollins who leave his office without another word while she patiently waits for Barba to end his call. Which he only does after closing his eyes, letting his boss talk for another minute until he can finally angrily click the red button.

“What are you still doing here? I told you before and I’m going to tell you one last time-“

“That’s not it.” Liv closes her eyes for a moment. “Although you could at least try to be a little bit cooperative.” Barba opens his mouth, but Liv is faster than him: “Are you okay?”

Barba closes his mouth immediately and looks away. Shame burns around his ear shell and the way his heart rate raises is concerning. He is a man under a lot of stress, maybe he really should see a doctor. He has a queasy feeling in his stomach and tries to bury it by swallowing hard. The question hits him uncomfortably in the chest and quite frankly, he doesn’t want to answer. Doesn’t she see the mess on his desk? Doesn’t she live the same life of deadlines and unnecessary phone calls among total chaos?

“Judge Briggs allowed Buchanan another expert witness. They’re reaching for every straw, but he can’t pull Kavanaugh out of the mud. Which doesn’t help because the jury gets impatient and I really don’t know how to push for the closing arguments already.”

“I see and I understand that. This case is a big one. But you gotta be patient, your case is solid. It will all turn out fine.”

“Yeah.”

 _It will_ , Barba knows this. It is just a matter of time before Kavanaugh will end up behind bars. Liv is right, he needs to be patient and this one will be fine eventually.

“You seemed so happy only a week ago, maybe you just need to take your mind off-.”

“Goodbye, Liv.”

“It’s stressful, but you can do it.”

“I know, thank you.” Barba sighs, thinks better of himself and reaches for a random paper on his desk. He tries to smile, falls short probably but the gesture is there all the same. “Really, thank you. But now go get me more evidence- Please? I also need to get back to work, okay?”

Liv’s mouth forms one of these rare smiles, these smiles full of warmth and full of hope. Barba appreciates it, he really does. And yet, he feels happy not because of the smile but because Liv finally disappears through the door.

Only to be immediately replaced by Carmen.

“Hi Carmen!”

“Lieutenant Benson.”

Barba pinches his nose. A subtle headache has been pounding against the inside of his forehead since the morning. He had one or two Scotch too many last night.

“Here’s the motion Judge Briggs rejected yesterday and this is the protocol of the autopsy of Dawn McLaughlin that you asked for.”

Barba accepts the paper Carmen is handing him over the distance of his desk and while these papers are useful and necessary, Barba still gnashes his teeth over the fact that they only mean more work.

“Did you talk to Mrs. Clayton?”

“I did, but Maryanne said that McCoy is determined. He wants every case from last year handed in today.”

“Great.”

The phone rings again, but Barba doesn’t pick up. _Priorities_ , he thinks to himself. He needs a few moments to collect himself.

“Don’t worry. I prepared everything, you will just need to sign.”

“Well, I’m going to have to look through them at least.”

Carmen blinks at him for a second. “Of course, Mr. Barba,” she says finally with a forced smile.

After a moment of consideration she dares a sideways glance to the antique clock on the chest of drawers where Barba keeps his Scotch. A clock she knows now not to be Barba’s taste, with all its squiggles not being pointed enough. She had stolen it out of another ADA’s office four years ago when Barba had transferred here and a lucky twist of faith had made Gregory Holmes retire around the same time. Holmes had left the clock in his office when he left, claiming it had always been there. As Holmes had worked as a prosecutor for nearly forty years, successfully and with a considerate mind, Carmen had found the clock (despite being acquired unlawfully and its uselessness in digital times) to be a suitable welcome gift for Barba. Needless to say that the clock has never worked since.

“But it’s already four o’clock. You only have two hours left-“

“Yes, thanks for the reminder.” Carmen purses her lips and Barba decides to ignore it. Barba runs a hand over his face. “Just make everyone leave me alone for today, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

Barba strokes big circles over his stomach and Carmen considers him for a moment.

“If you want me to go to the pharmacy, I can.”

“I’m okay.”

“And your mother called again. Should-“

“I said I don’t wanna talk to her!”

As soon as Carmen understands that his little outburst is not directed at her specifically, Barba feels sorry. She sucks in a sharp breath, not used to any outbreaks, unsolicited or otherwise, and surely not towards her. So Barba cannot blame her for looking at him now with wide eyes. She purses her lips and to Barba’s dismay she says absolutely nothing.

Something in his chest stiffens. He feels his throat tightening terribly as if his windpipe was sticking together, no word coming from his heart would come through. Barba looks at Carmen apologetically but she just nods and leaves.

Maybe Barba should call after her. Evidently her sudden departure is not about giving him the space he obviously needs but rather about being very understandably pissed off. In the end, it takes him too long to contemplate so the door clunks shut without Barba holding her back.

Barba closes his eyes with a sigh. He mentally kicks himself for being this inconsiderate. Carmen plays no role in any of his misery, she never has and Barba knows for a fact that she never will. Even more so since the day he had met her, she is basically the only person in his life working to improve his situation and Barba knows that her care goes well beyond the paycheck she receives every month.

All the same, he decides that there is nothing to do now. He needs to cool off and he can only hope that Carmen knows him well enough to know this as well.

He should go straight to work. With the paperwork of eleven cases of last year waiting to be handed in within the next two hours and the obligation to prepare for court on Monday Barba has a lot of things to do.

Barba mutes his phone and sits down. Instead he breathes in.

Barba hates himself for this.

Barba feels _terrible_.

The last time they had talked to each other was that Friday evening, exactly one week ago. Seven full days and Barba cannot believe he is playing along. Or is he playing the game himself, Barba doesn’t know.

One way or the other, Carisi surely is not seeking contact. Barba knows and loves him for having a backbone, yet unlike Barba who's been holding grudges against people since middle school Carisi is always striving for harmony. So Barba doesn’t expect him to backpedal but still it is Carisi. It’s not Carisi’s onus to solve this argument but Barba thinks he's even less likely to maintain one.

If Carisi won't come back with some cute line and another bouquet of flowers, Barba at least imagined him to text. A simple _I miss you_ maybe is noncommittal enough or even something as unsentimental as _We need to talk_ is exactly the little door Barba expects Carisi to open. Barba would furtively put his foot between and wait for the result.

Barba wouldn’t go as far as to say that his anger has vaporized. He has bathed it in countless shots of Tequila, all of them poured down under the careful pretense of meeting some old colleagues he hasn’t seen in years, but suddenly needed to see this very week. This way the anger had turned into a bitter taste on his tongue, had fed a headache for three days and finally had stayed exactly the same.

So yes, Barba hates everything that Carisi had said that evening. He sees that he had reacted unnecessarily peevish because of course Barba knows what it is like when work takes up the better part of his life, even and especially against better judgement. But then again, seriously? Can Carisi be seriously pissed about Barba being pissed that he has to work? Isn’t that exactly what he’s supposed to expect from his, well, boyfriend? His boyfriend. And if Barba remembers correctly it had been Carisi in the first place and all along to push forward that conversation that had led to the using of this phrase.

If there is anything that Barba is supposed to do as Carisi’s boyfriend it is being saddened by the fact that they wouldn’t have breakfast together. And this is where Barba startles himself. Isn’t it foolish of him to expect that their thing is so special, so especially unique and tender that a breakfast together is so worthy of protection that Carisi would lower his sights? And if this is where Barba should get angry at himself for being so incredibly foolish, it only makes him scared shitless.

_Does he feel more?_

Joining all the misery smoldering inside of him is the panic that has become too familiar to ignore. This type of panic doesn’t make him want to mill around like a scared chicken, instead it makes him burst into a cold sweat. It’s the type of panic that makes him feel like his stomach is too small, like there are brick stones in his chest. It numbs him. It makes Barba stand still convinced that as long as everything is fine, he is not going to let sleeping dogs lie. This panic is the subtle fear that Barba couldn’t do it.

And Barba wants to. He really does. It’s not just allowing himself to be wooed, not just into roses and dinners but mostly into the real thing. Barba still thinks that he has good reasons to avoid that relationship all along. The publicity, their different lives being just the fare end of a number of hurdles. Barba does work all the time and repeatedly chooses work over anything that could improve his personal life. When (or if) it comes to his personal life he is very set in his own ways with little motivation to change anything about that. And he actually doesn’t like that Carisi with all his tender loudness had started to interfere from the beginning. This has nothing to do with him, it is again a concern he rather nurtures for Carisi. That the man with his dimples and endless kindness doesn’t deserve to deal with a grumpy old man who chooses to mistake bitterness with sweetness.

With all this in mind Barba still knows that the fact that “he had at least tried” (with or without the quotation marks) wouldn’t be enough.

Barba doesn’t know if Carisi knew that he had poked into exactly this open wound. In a particular misty moment on Saturday after finishing an open bottle of red wine after already having finished one with his mother earlier the same evening Barba had allowed himself to consider what Carisi may have wanted to say. They shouldn’t get two steps ahead before they’re even ready to do one. It sounds this _logical_ and feels _this_ easy. Still, Barba thinks that Carisi is wrong. They trust each other, they are comfortable with each other. There is no need for any grand declaration as pretense to deepen their ties. But then again, maybe it is just Barba who feels this way.

_He cannot make it a condition._

Barba is no newbie at doing the exact opposite of what is expected of him. As much as he loves this side about himself, he knows how much of a curse it is when it comes to the things he’s insecure about. Not that there are many of those. Barba is not sure whether it was Carisi’s tactic to come up with a different thing to hold against Barba to distract from his own wrongdoing or if he really tried to make this whole conflict Barba’s mistake to begin with. Both possibilities make Barba feel equally sad.

Moreover, this makes Barba feel like being pushed into a corner, like a cornered animal, literally. He doesn’t see why he is put in a position in which he needs to explain himself when all of this started out with Carisi. And Barba foresees Carisi would argue that everything started with Barba who had reacted inappropriately. He also foresees that this argument goes in circles and could only be solved by locking the horns of their pigheadedness.

Barba wants to hide somewhere, under a blanket preferably where it wouldn’t feel so bad to feel _this_ defensive. To be pushed to admit his feelings is genuinely a very wrong move on Barba because all he wants to do is the exact opposite. Something about this makes Barba feel small and this in turn makes him feel even less of the strength he would need to allow them in the first place. Barba is scared and quite frankly doesn’t want to think further about the question of whether Carisi might really think that he is not important to Barba. Barba knows he has no grand ways to show him and even less grand words but he had hoped all along that what he feels lies somewhere in his touch, in the way he looks at him or, well, in him being sad about not seeing him for breakfast on a regular Saturday.

_Because I do. I really do._

Nothing ever came. Barba’s phone doesn’t ring. Needless to say that Barba surely won’t be the one to pick up his. And still, if their lack of speaking terms means that they had silently agreed on something then Barba is refusing his part in it.

Still. He doesn’t want to feel this way anymore. It’s enough.

Sitting there sulking for full seven days is not bringing him anywhere. How they had even managed seven days without a single word is beyond Barba.  
Well, it is not. Barba had left Carisi’s flat Friday night, the following weekend was probably spent in anger on both parts and the week was surely busy for the both of them, on Barba’s part mostly by carefully ignoring Carisi in favor of drowning his heartache in liquor. And yeah, Barba is not happy about the maturity of that move. But now a new weekend is just around the corner and Barba is totally paralyzed by the prospect of spending it alone yet again. Well, he is not going to spend it alone probably. He can call a few people or even just spend it on Liv’s couch between ice cream eating elephants, two to three bottles of Sauvignon and Lego bricks poking into his foot. As surprisingly appealing as this prospect looks, Barba wants to be back in that apartment full of cherry wooden furniture, pressed against the kitchen island with eggplants burning in the pan.

_He missed him._

For the fact that they are dating Barba misses him a whole lot anyway but while the usual missing is about those pink lips closing around him, sneaking up on him in the most inconvenient moments, or the fact that with Carisi’s very hot body coupled with his unexpectedly cold feet snuggling up to him, the loud breathing, hogging the blanket and the constant movements next to him at night Barba sleeps a lot better.

The way he misses him now is a lot worse than that. Barba misses all the unnecessary kisses pressed against weird parts of his body, against his forearms, the tip of his nose and once even his bellybutton. He misses the affection, it is as simple as that. The very unique affection that Carisi had saved up only for him.

And if Barba is honest with himself he misses giving that to him. Because Barba knows there is a whole lot of this in him to give and maybe he is holding himself back even more than Carisi does. It’s outrageous really how on some evenings when Barba stands uselessly in said kitchen watching the man cutting mountains of vegetables and not bothering to even ask for a knife and a second chopping board, eliciting these dimples seems like the most important thing in the world.

It’s only because of a sting behind Barba’s eyes that he swallows and commits himself to work. He opens the first casefile that Carmen has prepared. He wants to read through and check everything before he signs it and sends it to McCoy’s desk. But of course Carisi’s sweet face appears in front of his inner eye in during the first five words he is reading.

At least Barba wants to learn what this means. They are not talking so technically Barba cannot know if they broke up, but he is realistic enough to see that not talking probably means something along those lines.

Or maybe this is just Carisi being stubborn. Carisi had gifted him one hundred red roses in the most unfavorable time and had shut down a whole restaurant after he had turned him down but still Barba can only guess yet how far Carisi’s stubbornness goes. Barba only needs to look at how Carisi had managed to clandestinely sneak up his heart, it was through pure persistency alone and this gives Barba a clue about why he hasn’t called him for seven whole days.

And if this is all about who is more stubborn then Barba genuinely thinks it’s is a child’s game he doesn’t want to get engaged in. It’s not like Barba can clear himself from running with his head through the wall but between them this seems wrong. Then again, should he be happy that they finally entered that stage of their relationship where they do the groundwork? Set the dynamic of who is being the one who gives in? Barba likes nothing of that. He neither wants to keep this game going nor does he want to lose it.

He needs to put an end to this.

It is as simple as that and the moment Barba makes the decision he finds a zest for action in himself.

With a big sigh Barba starts signing all the paperwork Carmen had prepared. He can kill two birds with one stone here. Instead of spending the next two hours with paperwork that he knows Carmen to have prepared very well anyway, he could bury the hatchet by showing her that he trusts her completely and prepare for court on Monday instead.

It takes Barba only a few minutes to go through the documents and sign them. Now they are ready to go on their well-deserved journey to the archives of 1 Hogan Place. After that Barba gets up to bring them to Carmen. When he opens the door of his office, he sees Carmen on her desk spin her head around. She throws the handset on the hook immediately. For a second she looks at him with wide eyes but it is only a second before her expression smooths into a straight face. Into a very straight face.

“Sorry, I was just talking to Mackenzie, uh, my friend. On the phone.” She nods to the phone and doesn’t give Barba a smile.

“Okay.” Barba shakes his head slightly before he hands the paperwork to her. “Will you bring this to McCoy, please?”

Barba does smile at her while he hands her the stack of old case files and this conjures a little color on her cheeks. She doesn’t thank him, but her smile in return tells him everything he needs to know.

It isn’t until later, well past nine o’clock, when he walks out of the DA’s office that he first thinks about how to handle this. He had managed to shovel his evening and weekend free of work. Whatever good this will bring him, work will not be in his way at least. However, standing in the elevator having the phone in his hand he cannot think of anything.

 _We need to talk_ or maybe an honest _I miss you_ or even a combination of both _I miss you, but we need to talk?_ But no, he doesn’t want to communicate with Carisi over his phone anymore and he doesn’t want to give him time to think about what is to come.

So instead of waiting for green checkmarks and consequent bubbles to appear underneath a message, Barba goes home and deliberately waits until eleven o’clock because he figures that Carisi should be home by then. All the questions of whether he is out on a Friday evening or one of his sisters is with him, shoot through Barba’s head. In the end, Barba decides he needs to try his luck. Now or he might not gather up his courage again.

Barba doesn’t know what he had done during these few hours waiting. He had showered but now in the back of the uber he feels cold sweat breaking out from his pores. He had forgotten to use cologne and doesn’t remember if he even used shampoo.

He gets out in front of the familiar apartment building and looks up, realizing that he had absolutely no idea where to find Carisi’s apartment. Barba stands there for a few minutes all the same, figuring out where Carisi’s windows must be considering on which floor he lives and his apartment number. His thoughts are wobbly but still Barba finds the windows he attributes to Carisi alit, and takes this as a good sign.

“Good evening, Mr. Barba. Long time no see.”

Barba only remembers the doorman when he enters the lobby of the apartment building and nearly walks past him to the elevators. For the last few hours he had surrendered himself to tunnel vision, mulishly concentrating on all those tasks around him so that he wouldn’t lose sight of what he needs to do.

“I didn’t know Mr. Carisi was expecting you.”

“Good evening, uh…” While his thoughts run to find an explanation, Barba doesn’t remember the man’s name. He only remembers that the man’s daughter is preparing for college and that Carisi is giving him generous tips because of that. Unfortunately Barba has no cash on him.

“Are you good, Mr. Barba?”

Barba quickly shakes his head and catches the name tag on the counter behind the glass window.

“Yes, of course. Mr. Trotter, how's your daughter?”

“All good. We’re hopin’ she’s gonna get into Fordham.”

“I’m crossing my fingers.”

Barba stands awkwardly in the lobby and stares at Mr. Trotter. While Barba finds no excuse for appearing unannounced, an awkward silence stretches between them and Mr. Trotter raises a brow. Barba shifts his weight from one food to the other and steals a glance at the phone next to the doorman who is quick to answer the wrong question.

“We'll call you when your car arrives tomorrow in the morning.”

“Oh, yes.”

“As always.”

“Right, as always.”

“It’s apartment number 19. Fifth floor, you know that right?”

“Yes.” Barba clears his throat and smooths the front of his jacket, finally understanding that he is allowed to just enter. “Yes, uh, good evening, Mr. Trotter.”

“Have fun, Mr. Barba.”

Barba disappears into the elevator quickly and feels a little more helpless there. He doesn’t quite know what it means that he will now stand in front of Carisi’s door totally unannounced. Maybe he should have put more consideration into that.

When he stands in front of the green door that shows “19” in golden letters, Barba feels like throwing up. He knows rationally that he is sweating but a cold shiver captures his body all the same. Barba swallows down the iron taste on his tongue and concentrates on lifting his hand to knock on the door.

It feels like forever, but maybe it is really only a few seconds before he hears muffled steps in the apartment that come to stand at the other end of the door. A few more moments pass before Barba hears the security lock being unlocked and the door opening.

Barba looks into the familiar set of blue eyes and feels his throat tightening. Suddenly he feels small, so incredibly small. He just hopes that Carisi wouldn’t shut the door in his face, considering though that he must have seen him through the spyhole though and opened anyway, Barba shouldn’t fear this to happen.

An ugly wrinkle divides Carisi’s forehead. Just as Barba he says nothing but steps aside, silently inviting him in.

Barba takes an awkward sideward step, thereby giving Carisi enough space to shut the door and not lose eye contact at the same time.

They stand there in silence opposite each other and look each other in the eye. Something in Barba’s chest opens up. He doesn’t find any anger in Carisi’s eyes, maybe not even hurt, just sadness. This is where Barba understands that there is nothing to say for either one of them.

Barba had spent his evening so far worrying that coming here to him is essentially the wrong move. But it is only now that Barba truly understands what he was expecting all along. Theirs is a relationship and not one of war. Planning strategies or moves is a misdeed on their part that they simply shouldn’t engage in. They have a fight but no battle and the genuine feelings they have for each other shouldn’t be eroded by schemes plotted to win an argument.

There is no winning here. Barba tells himself that. Giving in doesn’t mean a surrender of his pride. It means nothing less than baring his heart on his outstretched hand. And as scary as this is, Barba's impulse is to search for solace. So he steps forward and lets his head drop heavily onto Carisi’s shoulder. He lifts up his arms to firmly wrap them around his middle.

Carisi’s reaction is to freeze. With his head pressed into his shoulder, Barba cannot know whether Carisi is simply surprised. But soon Barba feels him relax under his embrace and these long arms find their way around Barba’s shoulder. Carisi mumbles a kiss into the crown of Barba’s hair and then lays his cheek on top of it.

And this is when Barba knows it is all going to be okay. Eventually.

But still, Barba doesn’t allow himself to get caught up in the embrace. Carisi feels incredibly warm, smells incredibly good. He should speak his heart before his courage gets misted.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel bad about… working.”

Barba has his nose firmly pressed into the crook of Carisi’s neck so as his mouth is free, Barba guesses that Carisi heard him right. Nevertheless, his voice has a suspicious nasal tone. He feels his cheeks burning and only presses himself deeper into Carisi’s body.

“I didn’t want to insinuate that I think that you feel your work's more important than us.” _Me._

Although he manages the challenge there is no denying the fact that Barba needs to swallow down a heartfelt sob.

“I know what it's like to have responsibilities. I’m not trying to emotionally trick you into giving those up for me, it’s just… I don’t know. I just wish we could spend more time together. I’m sorry.”

It is Carisi who lets out a small sob at those last words and responds with squeezing Barba as firmly as possible. Due to the poor angle it leaves him breathless for a few moments and quite frankly it hurts, but it helps him get rid of the knot in his throat.

“Oh Rafael, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to make you feel pressured. Really, I’m really sorry. I was just angry and sad myself, I was insensitive. I’m sorry. I-“

As Carisi keeps on repeating the word _sorry_ over and over again, Barba decides to cut him off. And there is no simpler way to make Carisi shut up than by giving his mouth something else to do so Barba looks up and kisses him.

Carisi meets him eagerly.

By the way Carisi’s tongue strokes insistently over Barba’s, by the way Carisi’s hands wander down and quite obviously find Barba’s ass, Barba knows that for him the kiss is going elsewhere.

This is why Barba pulls back.

“Can we talk about this?” Barba searches for Carisi’s eyes. “Now?”

“I’m sorry.” Carisi’s hands find Barba’s cheeks to cup. “I just missed you so much.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“Well, you didn’t call.”

“So?”

“Rafi, you were the one storming out of my apartment. I took that as a clue that you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Doesn’t mean you couldn’t call later.”

“You wanted me to run after you?”

Dimples dip into Carisi’s cheeks and even if this feels like the wrong time to do so, Barba feels incredibly happy that he sees his laugh again.

“Maybe.”

Carisi chuckles and ducks his head to brush his lips over Barba’s. He had been too angry that evening, he didn’t know what to think so running after him would have probably made it all the worse. Which doesn’t mean that Barba doesn’t like the idea of Carisi doing exactly that.

“I’m sorry, Rafael. I didn’t mean to push you. I’m so happy with you, I really am. Yeah, of course I would like to introduce you to my family. Christ, I would love to climb on top of the Empire State Building and scream all over New York that I’m dating the hottest man on earth.”

It is ridiculous that Barba blushes now but he does. “You will one day.”

“I can’t wait.” Carisi pecks Barba’s lips again. “Until then I’m happy to take things slow. Because I- I never felt this way. I was never so sure about anything ever in my life.” Carisi takes a deep breath and smiles deeply. Barba just stares back into his crystal blue eyes and feels his heart go head over heels in his chest. “So even if I can’t wait, I'd rather take this slow and enjoy every moment of it because I'd rather want it to last.” Barba doesn’t know what to say but he smiles. And probably looks like a total fool. “I’m not pressuring you, okay? Believe me.”

“Yes, okay.” Barba’s voice is only a whisper.

“And don’t, even for a second, think I don’t want to spend more time with you.”

“I don’t think that, but- why don’t we?”

“Rafael!”

“I mean, like right now for example. We didn’t plan this. I’m here, I will spend the night. This is also nice.”

“Rafi, you can always come here. You don’t need my invitation.”

Carisi’s expression is soft and open, tender really. Like this Carisi really looks like those marble sculptures that capture grace in all its beauty. A sudden, very unrealistic fear that this face would break if someone touched it takes hold of Barba and he needs to bite his lips.

“Yeah, I gathered that and, uh, you can also always come to me, okay? When you miss me, I mean.”

“I will.”

Carisi smiles beautifully in all his ridiculousness. It looks like his cheeks ache, but before he can duck down to continue their kiss from earlier Barba pulls back.

He needs a moment to breathe. To look at this situation, at himself back in this apartment. He himself had found his way back into here, uninvited but with open doors. And maybe, or at least this is what Barba thinks, this space here has become to some part at least also his own.

Carisi obviously doesn’t seem to mind because he walks over to his kitchen and naturally pulls out a bottle of Scotch, Barba’s favorite of course, and pours him a glass.

“And as you wanna spend more time together and you know, to make up for it-“

“You really don’t need to make up for anything.”

“-we could maybe go on a trip together?”

“What?”

“Shooting's about to be wrapped up soon, so I'll be able to clear out a week next month. I’m thinking Turks & Caicos maybe? Or St. Barts? There are some beautiful private beaches we could rent.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, just you and me and paradise. And I’m gonna find you some Scotch, too.”

Barba still looks at him with furrowed brows, not really because he thinks this is a bad idea (although a full week together is a little much in Barba’s eyes) but because the idea genuinely catches him off guard.

“I wouldn’t need to wear a shirt. Think about that.”

“Why are you wearing one now then?”

Carisi throws his head in his neck and laughs out loud. This only gives him a few seconds though to stall before he unceremoniously pulls his shirt over his head and throws it down on the kitchen floor.

Barba needs to genuinely chuckle at that and shakes his head, looking at Carisi inquiringly.

“You think I’m that easy?”

“You think I go six days a week to the gym for no reason? At least my boyfriend can enjoy.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

Barba steps forward and presses a few kisses along Carisi’s sternum. He really did miss that. His fingertips touch the pale skin and Barba bites the inside of his cheeks. Something had come to his mind and the decision to simply ask Carisi comes spontaneous, fueled by the moment of revelations maybe. Barba stops himself to think further about it and just speaks.

“Next Sunday, my mother will host a little early dinner party…”

“I’m gonna need to go to Mass with my parents anyway or else Ma would kill me.”

“It’s her birthday actually, next week.”

“Oh, okay.”

“It’s just a few of her close friends, well, and me. So it’s me and a lot of women in their seventies if you come to see it this way. I’m the life of the party so to say.”

Barba lets out a nervous laugh that doesn't sound nervous at his attempt of a joke and observes realization gradually rushing over Carisi’s face. Realization comes in an open-gaped mouth of disbelief and a raised eyebrow asking for reassurance.

“Okay, I’m exaggerating now. Tipsy old women aren't the worst company on a Sunday evening. But, uh, it’s a small group and it’s definitely not exciting, but if want, you know, you could come with me.”

Carisi looks at him with wide eyes and waits a few moments for Barba to add anything. But nothing comes and so his expression takes a short ride from bafflement to contemplating to coming to an unwanted realization.

Barba doesn’t tell him that he had battled with asking him for weeks. His mother always invites a few friends over for her birthday and always insists on having Barba there, too, in case one of her friends brings along one of their single daughters. Every year his mother hopes that her son will either come or leave in company, and every year she is disappointed that he shows up alone.

So the invitation is not a result of their surprisingly quick reunion and the only reason why Barba hasn’t asked before is because he was afraid that Carisi would need to decline. Being disappointed of rejection is a thought that scares Barba more than building up the courage to even ask in the first place.

“You need to work.” Barba decides to simply meet his fear and adress the tragic realization. Carisi presses his lips together. He leans with his back against the kitchen counter and Barba can basically hear him think. “It’s okay. If you need to work, there’s nothing to do.”

“No!”

“It really is, it’s short notice anyway. Some other time.”

“No, no. I can arrange it.”

Barba raises a brow, not quite daring to believe what Carisi is saying and maybe not sure whether he should feel guilty for it.

“But how?”

“It’s just an interview, I’ll tell Mackenzie to rearrange it.”

Barba opens his mouth, but they both know that any more words would make no sense. So he just closes it again and stares Carisi in the eyes. They are blue as always, even bluer than blue. A sudden wave of warm affection flows over him, Barba tries to stop the shiver down his spine. He doesn’t know that now as Carisi has said yes and anticipation starts tickling under his skin if the nerves he feels are essentially good ones.

“Okay, that’s great.”

“Yeah, it really is.”

Carisi smiles like a toddler who has been given what he wants. Barba feels almost embarrassed for it. But if he is honest he also doesn’t know what it is in this moment that makes him more giddy, that they have conquered this argument this easily and at all or that he really is going to bring him along as his plus one.

“Uh, does your Ma know?”

“Know what? And she’s not ‘Ma’.”

“Oh my god, how do I call her?”

“I haven’t told her yet.”

“That you gonna bring someone or that you’re dating someone? Me?”

Barba huffs and decides to postpone that conversation to later, or to never as Carisi is going to attend his mother’s birthday and that would answer all of Carisi's questions.

Barba takes a mouthful of Scotch, the burn feels good down his throat but he puts the glass aside so that he can fling his arms back around Carisi’s neck.

“I’m glad- about everything.”

“Me, too.” Carisi’s smile, it is preposterous and even more is Barba who feels incredibly besotted by it. “But please never walk out on me again.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I left because I didn’t know how to handle the situation.”

“I get that you were angry, but honestly?” Carisi lets his large hands slide up and down Barba’s sides. “I’d rather have you angry next to me in bed than not at all.”

“That’s very sweet, but I’m really not sure if that’s how adult relationships work.”

“You’re welcome to sleep on the couch!”

“Right now or when I’m angry at you?”

Carisi laughs. “Oh, right now I have a lot of plans for you _in my bed_. Make up sex is supposed to be especially hot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised I didn't let you wait with resolving this fight, but I have to say from this point on I have no idea what to do with this. I'm not sure how to end this, so it's not even a matter of getting there. It's a matter of getting where? So feel free to suggest.
> 
> This being said, thanks to everyone who is still with me! This is sooo long. And feel free to share your thoughts. The next chapter will be about Lucia's birthday party obviously, but I have another fic planned for 23rd August and like two other WiPs so the next update will take a while.
> 
> And now, let's all take a moment to acknowledge that tomorrow I'm heading to Budapest to meet nevadatrash!!!!!!!! She contacted me maybe seven months ago after reading Uniformed Awakening and now she's my beta and we're friends and I'm gonna MEET HER!!!! My nerves are killing me!


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